Tag: Textiles

  • Joseph Jackson: The Man of Many Stitches

    Joseph Jackson: The Man of Many Stitches

    Christopher José // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    To find answers from the past, historians search endlessly through documents of all types, even store ledgers. These answers result in the researcher being able to glimpse into the past and learn from it. In the end, we better understand the culture and methods of those who came before us. This blog will explore one client of the Glassford & Henderson Colchester Store in 1760-1761, Joseph Jackson’s purchases and his method for buying, along with the mystery that surrounded this man’s profession.

    Jackson seemed to be quite an enigma when my initial research began. His purchases were what I presumed very similar to that of a tailor. I discovered his purchases often consisted of a mix of items such as pins, thread, and “duffils.”[1] These items drew me into exploring what this man truly intended to do with these objects.

    Joseph Jackson purchased materials necessary for making clothing during the cold month of December (folio 117D).

    Now, it was no surprise that needles and threads could be used by a tailor, but duffil, or duffle, was a foreign fabric type with which I was not previously familiar. I researched the word and discovered what it was. I found duffle’s origin derives from the name of a Belgian town that crafted the fabric. It is a heavy, wool fabric that was first manufactured during the seventeenth century.[2] With this in mind, it led me to think about the use of the material.

    A coat made of broadcloth, a heavy wool not unlike duffle. Joseph Jackson could have made a coat similar to this. From the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Acc. No. 1954-1041.

    Since Jackson bought the heavy fabric in December, it is possible he could have used the material to make a coat for himself or for another person to keep warm during the winter. The purchasing of duffle was not exclusive to one kind of trade and therefore did not provide conclusive proof of his profession. Moreover, these items could also have been purchased for another person, even a family member. The fact remained that if Jackson was not a tailor, then what (or who) were these purchases specifically for?

    I realized that it was imperative to continue my investigation of Jackson’s purchases to discover the truth behind his identity. As I continued my analysis of Jackson’s account, I attempted to compare documents with another customer that I stumbled across. This individual, like Jackson, acquired similar items. This person was John McIntosh who was more likely to be a tailor based on how he paid his accounts – in the creation and repairs of clothing for Alexander Henderson (the Colchester store manager) and those enslaved by the store.[3]

    John McIntosh also purchased materials for clothing, creating a link between his account and Jackson’s (folio 34D).

    Through McIntosh, I saw some similar purchases: needles and duffle. Knowing that McIntosh purchased his materials at the same store that Jackson did made me wonder if there were any connections. Given the similarity in purchases, perhaps Jackson was a tailor not yet employed, or perhaps he was an apprentice for a tailor and associated with McIntosh on some level. Yet, it was not enough evidence to surmise Jackson’s profession and it continued to be unknown to me. Whatever profession Jackson pursued was not clearly identified by his purchases alone and would take additional research to learn.

    John McIntosh paid his balance at the Colchester store in 1760-1761 by making various items of clothing. Clearly, he was some sort of tailor (folio 34C).
    Compare how Joseph Jackson paid his account with McIntosh (above). By paying with tobacco, and not with a service such as tailoring, it becomes evident that Jackson followed some other profession (folio 117C).

    By looking at Jackson’s payments to the Colchester store, it became clear he was not a tailor at all.[4] He may have been connected to Marmaduke Beckwith (a landholder in the western part of Fairfax County) as Jackson’s credits came from selling tobacco notes originally belonging to Beckwith. Was Jackson a tenant of or farm manager for Beckwith? Although I couldn’t confirm what Jackson’s profession may have been by looking at his purchases, by continuing to look at Jackson’s accounts in full, I learned I was wrong in my initial interpretation of him as a tailor based on his fabric purchases and that sometimes it is hard work being a historian!

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 117 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] “Duffle coat,” Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, accessed March 23, 2017, http://angelasancartier.net/duffle-coat.

    [3] Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, folio 34 Debit.

    [4] Ibid., folio 117 Credit.

  • Nice Threads

    Nice Threads

    Jordi Pelayo // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    Clothing is a status symbol. If you have the nicest pants on the block, chances are they were expensive, and you bought them to show off. The clothing people buy tells us about who they are and for what purpose the clothing is intended. Cotton is undoubtedly one of the most well-known fabrics for clothing, and throughout history it has been used in a variety of ways. Cotton was used in sails, towels, fishing nets, and bookbinding in addition to clothing.[1] Using the accounts from the John Glassford and Company store in Colchester, Virginia, from 1760-1761, as well as conducting my own research, I have been able to uncover some information about what the fabrics of the time said about the people who wore them.

    Henry Taylor purchased both muslin and printed cotton at the Colchester store in September of 1760 (folio 090D).
    The portrait of Elizabeth Buckner Smith, painted ca. 1745-49. The sheer material at her neck is muslin. From the Colonial Williamsburg Collections, Acc. No. 1951-577,A&C.

    In the eighteenth century, cotton came in many forms, each with its own distinct functions. Muslin was a form of cotton that was made in India. Although it could be manufactured into varying degrees of softness, it was well known for being fine.[2] The most popular use for muslin—a fabric similar to gauze—was as a dress material. The people who bought muslin came from a higher tier of society, and were either women or purchasing it for women. At the Colchester store, I found an example of this in the account of Henry Taylor when he bought some women’s gloves and muslin, possibly for his wife.[3] Portraits of wealthy women show them dressed in muslin attire.[4]

    Another specific kind of cotton was known as printed cotton. This fabric was often decorated with floral designs and was used for multiple purposes, such as home décor and quilts in addition to clothing. In the early eighteenth century, both England and France had placed bans on printed cotton for domestic production because it quickly became a competitor for imported silks, but by mid-century these bans had been lifted and printed cotton became more widespread on the continent. The American colonies, however, had always had a large market for this kind of cotton.[5] At the Colchester store, I found that mostly men bought printed cotton. William Turner bought two yards, Leonard Dozer six yards, and Henry Taylor one and a half yards.[6]

    A 1765-1775 woman’s printed cotton gown, featuring the popular floral patterns of the time. From the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Acc. No. 1954-67,1.

    However, a few women also purchased this fabric, such as Elizabeth Pierce and Elizabeth Fallen, who bought one and a half yards and seven yards, respectively.[7] Each customer at the Colchester store who bought this particular kind of cotton paid a range of prices, from as little as 1 shilling 1 pence for half a yard to as much as 1 pound 15 shillings for 14 yards, with variations in between even for similar amounts.[8] Using a sample of purchases of printed cotton and comparing them to the few instances of muslin being purchased, it is clear that printed cotton was slightly more affordable than muslin. For example, one and half a yards of the former sold for 7 shillings 1½ pence, whereas the same amount of muslin went for 10 shillings.[9]

    Each of these specific types of cotton was worth more than the parent fabric. The purchases of both muslin and printed cotton show that customers at the Colchester store were searching for visible ways to express their wealth, or even to give the impression they had more wealth than was the reality. Just like today, appearances mattered.

     

     

    [1] Julian Roche, The International Cotton Trade (Cambridge, England: Woodhead Publishing Ltd., 1994), 4-5.

    [2] Roche, International Cotton Trade.

    [3] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 90 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [4] James Gillray, Advantages of Wearing Muslin Dresses!, February 15, 1802. British Cartoon Prints Collection, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

    [5] Melinda Watt, “Textile Production in Europe: Printed, 1600-1800,” in Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000-), accessed May 18, 2018, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/txt_p.htm.

    [6] Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761 folio 20, 49, 90 Debit.

    [7] Ibid., folio 42, 122 Debit.

    [8] Ibid., folio 8, 20, 22, 23, 24, 29, 38, 42, 48, 49, 52, 68, 79, 90, 122, 131, 141, 147, 150, 153 Debit.

    [9] Ibid., 11 Credit, 122 Debit.

  • Osnaburg: A Sign of Wealth?

    Osnaburg: A Sign of Wealth?

    Jason Bernstein // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    Whenever we look back on the colonial period of American history, we always look to the relationships amongst the Native Americans, the colonial economy, and the events leading up to the American Revolution. But there are several aspects that go under the radar, such as diet, climate, and family life. One aspect of family life is how the family dressed themselves. And that’s where recognizing one of the period’s  mainstay fabrics come in. Osnaburg, a common fabric during the 1600 and 1700s, found its way into the colonies through trade imports where it was utilized in many forms. I will focus on the creation of this fabric, its uses, and its representation of colonial wealth during the eighteenth century.

    Osnaburg originated in Germany before being exported to England and later, her colonies. Woven from flax and hemp, it naturally looked brown due to weavers not bleaching it during its fabrication.[1] Eventually, Scotland began weaving this cloth to compete with other markets, and saw much  exportation to the colonies.[2]

    Osnaburg, a rough-textured cloth, was also very durable. As such, it was used for food sacks, and other assorted bags to transfer objects. However, its primary use was in clothing, particularly for slaves on plantations.[3] As an example in 1705, the Virginian government consolidated the different laws regarding slaves and indentured servants. Among them, one law stated that slaves had to be clothed, with no  other clarifications or restrictions about the clothes, “That all masters and owners of servants, shall find and provide for their servants wholesome and competent diet, clothing, and lodging…”[4] This led many slave owners to provision their enslaved with clothing that was readily available, as well as both time and cost effective. In addition to its availability and affordability, osnaburg fabric for enslaved clothing was favored for its simple construction and hardiness.[5]

    James Edwards’s account showing repeated purchases of osnaburg at the Colchester store in 1760-1761 (folio 19D).

    The amounts of osnaburg fabric purchased depended on the wealth of the consumer, and that can give us an idea of its intended use. For example, let’s examine the ledger account for James Edwards, a customer of Glassford and Henderson’s store in Colchester, Virginia, from 1760-1761. Over eleven months, he purchased thirty-one yards of osnaburg, with the cost of each purchase averaging one shilling per yard; he also purchased fourteen yards of the best osnaburg available for a total of sixteen shillings and four pence.[6]

    Another modern representation of an osnaburg work shirt. Image from Jas Townsend and Son, Inc.

    A modern recreation of what an osnaburg shirt might have looked like. Image from Jas Townsend and Son, Inc.

    What could these amounts of osnaburg been used for? We can create an idea, by looking at the rest of his purchases. Metal and glass buttons, thread, nails, and pins point to clothing fabrication.[7] Five and a half yards of the fabric would make two pairs of men’s pants, while two and a half yards would make one woman’s petticoat. Osnaburg could also have been used to make work shirts. (Other fabrics, such as cotton, shirting, and linsey would have been used to make shirts as well, along with dresses and slips.)[8] The osnaburg could also have been used as a bag for nails (you wouldn’t want a flimsy bag holding them). We know that osnaburg was inexpensive and capable of withstanding harsh and prolonged working conditions.[9] From the amount Edwards bought over the span of one year and the amount of tobacco Edwards paid for goods (two hogsheads totaling over 2000 pounds of tobacco), it’s possible that he was a slave-owner.[10] The purchases he made and how much he bought reflect his wealth, which we can understand through the purchase of a simple fabric.

    As we look back on osnaburg—a pretty simple fabric that has survived into the modern age, although made with more modern methods—shows how much the past affects us today. The creation, use, and purchasing of this cloth have given us a small insight into the wealth, culture, and production methods of the 18th century.

     

    [1] Katherine Egner Gruber, “Slave Clothing and Adornment in Virginia,” Encyclopedia Virginia, last modified February 4, 2016, accessed April 12, 2017,
    http://www.EncyclopediaVirginia.org/Slave_Clothing_and_Adornment_in_Virginia.

    [2] Alastair Durie, “Imitation in Scottish Eighteenth-Century Textiles: The Drive to Establish the Manufacture of Osnaburg Linen,” Journal of Design History 6, no. 2 (January 1993): 71.

    [3] Gruber, “Slave Clothing.”

    [4] William Waller Hening, ed., The Statutes at Large; Being a Collection of All the Laws of Virginia from the First Session of the Legislature, in the Year 1619 (Philadelphia: R. & W. & G. Bartow, 1823), 3:448, accessed April 10, 2018, http://vagenweb.org/hening/vol03-25.htm.

    [5] Gruber, “Slave Clothing.”

    [6] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 19 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [7] Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761 folio 19 Debit.

    [8] Michael Wayne, “Slavery,” in Death of an Overseer: Reopening a Murder Investigation from the Plantation South (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 81, eBook Collection EBSCOhost, accessed April 12, 2018.

    [9] Gruber, “Slave Clothing.”

    [10] Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761 folio 19 Debit.

  • Colonial America’s Complicated Economy

    Colonial America’s Complicated Economy

    Kayla Davis // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    When reading about colonial life in the British colonies during the mid-eighteenth century, it is easy to think of their consumer habits as idyllic or self-reliant, as we often reference the homespun movement preceding the American Revolution.[1] Beginning in 1765, after the implementation of the Townshend Acts, this movement encouraged colonists to stop buying manufactured goods from Britain and instead produce them themselves.[2] However, as sources and account books reveal, the decades leading up to the imposition of the Townshend Acts prove the economy of the colonies cannot be relegated to the same image as that of the colonies during the Revolution as it was a little more complicated. The 1760-1761 account book from John Glassford and Alexander Henderson’s Colchester store in Virginia and varied scholarly research uncovered that the economy of colonial America was a complicated mix of imports and home-manufactured goods.

    The middle of the eighteenth century saw an increase in the size of flocks of sheep and a cultural movement towards rejection of luxury cloths for simpler wools and flax of American production; this coincided with a thriving economy in the colonies.[3] The accounts of the Colchester store in Virginia suggest commercial trade for textiles. Joseph Power bought yards of strong durable textiles and other materials which indicate he (or someone in his household) was making clothing. On October, 31, 1760, he purchased one and a half yards of cotton, nine yards of kersey, two yards of white linen, one ounce of thread, and two dozen buttons. Additionally, Power bought other fabrics such as best pleiding, checked holland, fine check, and yards of various other kinds of fabric. Fine check and checked holland cost the most, while the fabrics of osnaburg and roles were the least expensive.[4] These purchases of various fabrics—as well as the materials needed to turn fabric into clothing, such as buttons and thread—indicate that Power was buying supplies with the intent to manufacture clothes.

    Joseph Power’s account in the 1760-1761 Glassford and Henderson ledger, showing his purchases of fabrics and the materials to make clothes (folio 059D).

    At the same time, one cannot conclude that there were no luxury goods consumed during this time either; in Virginia, the account book shows us that patrons of the Colchester store did buy luxury and manufactured goods. In 1760, Joseph Power also bought a scarlet cloak, and a silk handkerchief, which would have been imported luxury goods.[5] In 1760, John Berry, an inspector at the Occoquan tobacco warehouse, purchased a silk sun cap with lace, as well as two different kinds of shoes: a pair of women’s calf pumps and a pair of Calamanco shoes.[6] In the same year, John Barkley purchased a fine beaver hat.[7] The purchase of goods like the cloak, the beaver hat, and the shoes indicates that there was an economy for manufactured goods. However, even more interesting is the purchase of silk items like the handkerchief and the cap, which indicate a  market for luxury imported items.

    John Barry purchased several luxury items from Henderson’s store in 1760-1761 (folio 046D).
    John Barkley bought a beaver hat from Henderson’s store in August 1761 (folio 046D).
    Miss Mary Flint Spofford Wedding Shoes, English, c. 1765 Historic Deerfield; photo by Penny Leveritt, Acc. No. HD 2004.26. These shoes were made of calamanco, linen, and leather.

    What is important is the realization that the American colonies were complex, and often present to us a different picture than the quite generalized image we are given in textbooks. When shown wonderful sources such as the accounts of the Glassford and Henderson Colchester store, we see that the American colonies were a diverse and complicated group of communities with many different stories to tell.

     

    [1] Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, The Age of Homespun: Objects and Stories in the Creation of an American Myth (New York: Vintage Books, 2001), 177-183, accessed April 17, 2018.

    [2] Michael Zakim, “Sartorial Ideologies: From Homespun to Ready-Made,” American Historical Review, 106, no. 5 (2001): 1554.

    [3] Zakim, “Sartorial Ideologies,” 1557.

    [4] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 59 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [5] Henderson, et. al., Ledger 1760-1761 folio 59 Debit.

    [6] Ibid., folio 46 Debit.

    [7] Ibid.

  • They Were Wearing What? The unusual names and materials used to make clothes in colonial America

    They Were Wearing What? The unusual names and materials used to make clothes in colonial America

    Joseph Lolli // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    When looking at any documents from the past, you must understand that the words used in their time may mean something completely different than they mean today. Depending on how far back you go, you will also have to become patient with simple things like spelling because there may not be a standardized way of writing a word, and it can be spelled many different ways by the same person, even in the same sentence. While transcribing the Colchester, Virginia store ledger (1760-1761), many entries stumped me in terms of context, until I noticed a pattern in items purchased concerning fabric goods.

    Richard Henderson bought two types of shalloon at the Colchester store from 1760-1761 (folio 042D)

    Traditional, well-known fabrics like denim, jean, linen, muslin, satin, silk, and velvet were used. Items that caused confusion due to mixed definitions were alamode, bearskin, drill, holland, and shalloon.[1] Alamode is today used to refer to ice cream with pie, though its origin is the French saying a la mode meaning “in the fashion of.” To the craftsman of the eighteenth century, it was a lightweight silk fabric used for scarves and hoods.[2] Bearskin was not literally referred to as the skin of a bear, but instead it was a thick, woolen cloth often provided to slaves as outerwear.[3] Drill is not an electronic power tool used in construction; drill in the accounts was a strong, twilled cotton often used for summer clothing.[4] Ask most people what holland is and they will tell you it is a country. Ask the shopkeeper in Colchester, and you will be supplied with a linen fabric which got its name from where it was made.[5] Something like shalloon would sound foreign to the average American, though it was a very common, cheap, wool cloth used for lining clothing and pockets.[6]

    Mrs. Elizabeth Fallen purchased “striped holland” in January 1761 at the Colchester store (folio 042D).
    Black alamode woman’s hat, ca. 1770-1780—Colonial Williamsburg Foundation., Acc. No. 1993-335.

    If you take a good look through the Glassford and Henderson ledger from the mid-eighteenth century, you’ll find that the usual fabrics from today and the more unusually titled fabrics explained here were bought in similar volumes and similar frequency. When you find something shocking, strange, or at odds with your modern perspective during research of an era past, fear not. There is likely a very simple explanation when you look into the context and add a little more digging into your research.

     

     

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 52, 59, 158 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] Dictionary.com, “Alamode,” accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.dictionary.com/browse/alamode.

    [3] Gaye Wilson, “Slave Clothing,” Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, accessed March 23, 2017, https://www.monticello.org/site/plantation-and-slavery/slave-clothing.

    [4] Dictionary.com, “Drill,” accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.dictionary.com/browse/drill.

    [5] Linda Baumgarten, “Looking at Eighteenth-Century Clothing,” Colonial Williamsburg Online Resources, accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.history.org/history/clothing/intro/clothing.cfm.

    [6] Peter Earle, Making of the English Middle Class: Business, Society, and Family Life in London (London: Methuen, 1991), 288.

  • Down the Silk Route We Go

    Down the Silk Route We Go

    Sarah Green // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    For most, silks are a fabric associated with the finer things. Silk is a rich, luxury fabric by today’s standards but what about in eighteenth-century America? Silk was as favored back then as it is now.

    While examining ledger pages from the Glassford and Henderson Colchester store (1760-1761) in Fairfax County, Virginia, silk is mentioned more than once. People bought silk in many different forms.[1] Silk garters, for example, were used to hold up stockings and to prevent them from rolling down. As garters were essentially the eighteenth-century version of suspenders, both men and women used them.

    Alexander Henderson’s account showing several purchases of silk in various different forms (Folio 8 Debit).

    Cultivated for thousands of years, silk commonly came from China, Italy, and France. The English wanted to rival the French and Italians in the production of silk, but the damp and cold English climate was not agreeable with its production. In 1603, King James sent silkworm eggs and mulberry seeds to America.[2] However, silk was produced inconsistently until the middle of the 1700s and by then, the American colonies were far better at producing cash crop like tobacco.

    Woman’s dress of lustring (taffeta) silk that was originally crafted in the 1750s and remade in the 1770s, courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Acc. No. 1975-340,2.

    Trading, for the American colonies, was rather constricted and controlled by the English crown limiting access to open trading. When it came to trading with America, goods had to pass through England as part of the Navigation Act of 1651.[3] The act put more control on the British handlings of domestic goods, placing a restraint on colonial trading and decreasing demand for imported goods; the Act of 1651 also stated that goods were required to be carried in British vessels.[4] While homespun fabrics produced in the colonies were an alternative to buying imported fabrics and textiles, silk remained a popular purchased fabric in America even with the importation restrictions.

    Man’s coat possibly of lustring (silk taffeta), courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Acc. No. 1970-155.

    Because silk is a lightweight and breathable fabric, it provides comfort to its wearers during the hot summer months in Virginia. Wealthy white women liked to keep cool as much as possible, so they chose to dress in a silken fabric called lustring.[5] Silk was worn in many forms, year round, and not just by women, but by men too. Fabrics made of silk for men’s clothing were often a mix of fibers such as with wool to create alapeen or hairbine which was made with worsted.

    While more accessible today than in the eighteenth century, silk was a statement of wealth back then, a way of feeling important as well as being functional. There were many forms to buy silk that added to fashion as well as function. Silk is a timeless fabric that has been sought after for not just for a hundred years, but thousands, and is still popular today.

     

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 8 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] David Landry, “History of Silk,” Mansfield Historical Society, accessed April 19, 2017, http://www.mansfieldct-history.org/history-of-silk-production/.

    [3] Carmen Miner Smith,”Navigation Acts (1651, 1660),” Encyclopedia of North Carolina, accessed April 18, 2017, http://www.ncpedia.org/navigation-acts-1651-1660.

    [4] Smith, “Navigation Acts.”

    [5] Linda Baumgarten, “Looking at Eighteenth-Century Clothing,” Colonial Williamsburg, accessed April 14, 2017,
    https://www.history.org/history/clothing/intro/clothing.cfm.

  • Measure for Measure: Units of Measure in the Eighteenth Century

    Measure for Measure: Units of Measure in the Eighteenth Century

    Katie Miesner // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    The eighteenth century was truly a time of cultural melding in the colonies. People from various parts of Europe with aspirations for a better life came to Virginia, largely because of its flourishing economy. For immigrants, Virginia offered refuge from religious persecution, poverty, and social oppression. Shopkeeper Alexander Henderson operating the John Glassford & Company store in Colchester, Virginia,  was an example of a colonist who came to America seeking more opportunities.

    When analyzing Henderson’s shop ledger for 1760-1761, I was initially thrown off by the various units of measurements found in the accounts.[1] Certain units such as inches, yards, and pounds sounded familiar while other words such as ells, fathoms, and hundredweights required a fast search into the project’s glossary for clarification. I soon learned that a hundredweight (abbreviated cwt) is a unit of weight, a fathom is a measurement of length described as outstretched arms, and an ell was also used for length, typically in Scotland and England, gauged by the length of a forearm.[2] I began pondering how Henderson was able to keep track of all of these different units of measurement. In order to be successful in his line of work, he must have learned to be patient and adaptive to numerous cultures  and find ways to get around language and social barriers that come with dealing with lots of people from various backgrounds. To succeed in business, he must have had to do a lot of improvising in terms of consolidating fair trade prices to reflect the various units of measurement depending on the item sold. The more I pondered these scenarios, the more I realized that the various units of measurement are synonymous with the colonists themselves.

    A customer at the Colchester store purchased ells of roles and best osnaburg, two types of fabric (folio 131D).
    Another customer purchased rope by the fathom at the Colchester store (folio 131D).

    The United States Customary Unit system’s origin is similar to the British Imperial system. Both systems trace their roots back to Roman and Anglo-Saxon units of measure.[3] As I reviewed the accounts, I found that the most common type of length measurements used in the ledger were inches, yards, and fathoms. What’s interesting about these types of measurements is that they are all units based on anatomy and dimensions of the human body. According to Russ Rowlett, a professor from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, “the inch represents the width of the thumb, [and] in many languages the word for inch is also the word for thumb.”[4]

    Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man poses as an example of various anatomy-based measurements: light blue for fathom, dark blue for yard or half-fathom, and purple for ell. Original image from LeonardoDaVinci.net.

    The foot is often thought of as being the length of a human foot, and the fathom as previously stated is a person’s wingspan. The yard can also be interpreted as being the total distance from the end of the middle finger of an outstretched hand to the nose, or half of a fathom.

    What this says about the eighteenth century is that because of the lack of similar backgrounds and common education, units of measurement that relied on anatomy were easier to use than those dependent on math, numbers, or previous knowledge. This idea predates the eighteenth century, but was revisited as a means to find commonality to overcome language barriers.

    Although there wasn’t an official decree in terms of a unit of measurement in the United States until the Metric Conversion Act of 1975 by President Ford, a need for a practical system of measurements was certainly a priority for shopkeepers such as Alexander Henderson in eighteenth-century colonial Virginia.[5] The adaption of colonial shopkeepers to numerous cultures as seen in the ledger proves that, while everyone has different origins,  money and goods are a universal necessity.

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 131 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] History Revealed, Inc., Glassford and Henderson Transcription Glossary, unpublished.

    [3] Russ Rowlett, Dr, How Many? A Dictionary of Units of Measurement (New York, NY: University of North Carolina Chapel Hill, 1999).

    [4] Rowlett, How Many?.

    [5] “Metric Conversion Act of 1975,” US-Metric Association, accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.us-metric.org/metric-conversion-act-of-1975/.

  • A Man and His Clothes

    A Man and His Clothes

    Amanda Eversz // AMH 4110.0M01—Colonial America, 1607-1763

    We can gain some insight into the economic priorities of those living in colonial Virginia from an account ledger from John Glassford and Alexander Henderson’s Colchester store in Fairfax County dating back to 1760-1761 which contained an accounting record for the overseer, Jeremiah Thomas, of Colonel Thomas Lee’s farm.[1] At first glance, these purchases seem to be a part of the typical shopping experience with a customer buying clothing materials and household goods. It is not until after further research that we can uncover more specific usage and purpose in Thomas’ purchases of these goods. This account gives a record of the items purchased by Thomas and may shed light on the societal purpose for some of his choices.

    Jeremiah Thomas’ account in the Glassford and Henderson ledgers, showing the variety of his purchases (Folio 51D).

    Thomas’ transactions show that various textiles were purchased with supplies such as buttons, thread, and lace with the likelihood of making clothes. The materials Thomas purchased imply he was a man concerned with his appearance and status within society. He purchased coat straps, silk handkerchiefs, and combs—things intended to keep up his appearance of wealth, even as an overseer of another man’s land. Appearances played a vital role in colonial Virginian society. This was especially the case because colonists often tried to emulate the current fashions and trends of England.[2] Mr. Thomas’s largest line items were for women’s shoes, stockings, blue wool, and an assortment of buttons. He spends significantly less on home goods like nails, salt, and sugar. Clearly, if one were trying to make it in society, one needed to make a serious commitment to budgeting for his wardrobe.

    Rendering of a 1750s tailor shop from London. These shops would have been extremely important for the upkeep of one’s appearance. – © Trustees of the British Museum. G, 12.111.

    There is another aspect of Virginian life that is revealed by the textiles purchased by Jeremiah Thomas: climate. In order to pursue wealth through agriculture, Virginia colonists were willing to go through extreme temperatures throughout the year. Mr. Thomas’s purchases reflect these extremes of hot and cold. He purchased expensive cotton for its breathability in warm climates. He also purchased dufill, which is a heavy wool, frequently used in making heavy coats.[3] It is worth noting that even while Jeremiah Thomas was being practical when purchasing cotton and dufill fabrics, he purchased the “best Cotton” and a rather expensive “Blue Dufill.”[4] It seems as though his public presentation still maintained priority no matter the weather.

    A wool and silk coat, ca. 1755-1765, made in England. Colonists often copied fashions of the homeland. Images courtesy of the Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of the Brooklyn Museum, 2009; H. Randolph Lever Fund, 1968. 2009.300.916a, b.

    Reading a ledger at first seems like a meaningless glimpse into someone’s finances. However, we can gain a deeper understanding of who Jeremiah Thomas was. He was clearly a man that chose to spend a large portion of his spending money on fashion and appearance. This  shows that he pursued a social life in front of other colonists. This familiar aspect of staying up to date with the newest European trends is common to both eighteenth-century Virginia and twenty-first-century America.

     

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 51 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] Linda Baumgarten, “Looking at Eighteenth-Century Clothing,” Colonial Williamsburg, accessed May 3, 2018, http://www.history.org/history/clothing/intro/clothing.cfm?showSite=mobile-regular.

    [3] Oxford English Dictionary, “duffel, n. and adj,” OED Online, accessed May 3, 2018,
    http://www.oed.com.ezproxy.net.ucf.edu/view/Entry58272?redirectedFrom=duffel#eid.

    [4] Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761 folio 51 Debit.

  • Momentos Mori: The Materials of Mourning

    Momentos Mori: The Materials of Mourning

    Casey Wolf // AMH 4110.0M01 – Colonial America, 1607-1763

    On 22 November 1761, death had come to the Gunston Hall Plantation in Fairfax County, Virginia. The deceased was Sempha Rosa Enfield Mason Dinwiddie Bronaugh—mother to Captain William Bronaugh and the daughter of George Mason II.[1] Prior to marrying Jeremiah Bronaugh, she was the widow of John Dinwiddie—a successful merchant on the Rappahannock River and brother of Robert Dinwiddie, Virginia’s lieutenant governor from 1751 to 1758.[2] In the days following her death, Captain William Bronaugh visited Alexander Henderson at his Colchester store to purchase items to begin the process of burial and mourning: bombasine, black buckles, crape, alamode, fine shalloon, black satin ribbon, linen, worsted ferret, black stockings, black thread, handkerchiefs, sheeting, and ties.[3] Much as in life, the purchase and display of material goods would proclaim the wealth and status of the well-born, well-bred, and well-connected Sempha Rose. So, how were material goods used to part with the dearly departed?

    On the 24th and 28th of November, Captain William Bronaugh purchased items to bury his mother and to mourn her passing (folio 159D).

    Unlike death, the practices and processes of confronting it in eighteenth-century colonial America are not certain. Partially informed by fashions and traditions from England, funeral and mourning customs were shaped by local factors as well. As a result, customs varied significantly throughout colonial America.[4] These variations reflected aspects of the colonists who participated in them.

    For the dead

    In the eighteenth century, the deceased were not often buried in their clothes as clothing was both laborious to make and a significant expenditure. Clothing in colonial America was often passed down to and altered for younger generations of a family. Instead, most people were buried in shrouds. Shrouds were robes split down the back with ribbons or strings at the openings for the hands and the feet, essentially enclosing the deceased within the shroud. The quality of the shroud and the material of which it was made depended on the wealth of the deceased.[5] Sempha Rose’s shroud was most likely constructed with the sheeting and tied with the twists that Bronaugh purchased. Rough cheap fabrics were used when burying the poor while higher quality fabrics—embellished with ruffles or pleats—were used to inter the wealthier. For those who needed to be buried promptly or who did not have a family to attend to their burial, winding sheets—usually of osnaburg—were wound around the body before it was placed into the grave.[6]

    For the living

    Interpreters wearing eighteenth-century mourning dress. Image courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

    Many colonists wore specific outfits to outwardly express their feelings of grief and mourning. Although varied, mourning clothes were plain, usually consisting of dull material without embellishment.[7] Trimmed with white linen or black crape, dresses were made of bombasine—a  blend of wool and silk—with either button or black ribbon closures.[8] On the head, hoods, veils, caps, or any combination of the three were made of and embellished with crape and silk.[9] Accessories included handkerchiefs or fans.[10]

    For men, mourning suits were made of woollen material most likely broad cloth, shalloon, or a combination of the two—with crape wrapped around the band of the hat.[11] Depending on the wealth of the family, servants would also receive mourning clothes—although of lesser quality and often only a few pieces. Bronaugh’s order of materials already dyed black are a statement of his wealth. The wealthy could afford to have a set of clothes made specifically for mourning purposes while the poor dyed their everyday wear to serve as mourning clothes.[12]

    As the development of Atlantic trade facilitated easier means of exchange between Europe and the colonies, colonists began to use displays of material goods to project declarations of wealth traditionally limited to the wealthy.[13] Mourning materials made available to increasingly wealthier colonists allowed them to participate in traditions previously reserved for European aristocracy.[14]

     

     

    [1] Michele Lee, “Simpha Rosa Ann Field Mason,” George Mason’s Gunston Hall, last updated May 18, 2011, accessed March 23, 2017, http://www.gunstonhall.org/library/masonweb/p1.htm#i8.

    [2] Pamela C. Copeland and Richard K. McNaster, The Five George Masons: Patriots and Planters of Virginia and Maryland (Fairfax County, VA: George Mason University Press, 2016), chap. 2.

    [3] Alexander Henderson, et. al. Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 159 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association); History Revealed, Inc. Glassford and Henderson glossary.

    [4] Kelly Arehart, interview by Harmony Hunter, “The Business of Death,” Past & Present (MP3 broadcast), Colonial Williamsburg, uploaded March 30, 2015, accessed March 23, 2017,
    http://podcast.history.org/2015/03/30/the-business-of-death/.

    [5] Arehart and Hunter, “The Business of Death.”

    [6] Ibid.

    [7] Kirstin Olsen, Daily Life in 18th-century England (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Publishing, 1999), 108.

    [8] Linda Baumgarten, What Clothes Reveal: The Language of Clothing in Colonial and Federal America, the Colonial Williamsburg Collection (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002), 177-78;
    Lou Taylor, Mourning Dress: A Costume and Social History (New York, NY: Routledge, 1983), 78.

    [9] Baumgarten, What Clothes Reveal, 177; Taylor, Mourning Dress, 78, 81-2.

    [10] Baumgarten, What Clothes Reveal, 180; Taylor, Mourning Dress, 82.

    [11] Taylor, Mourning Dress, 78-9.

    [12] Olsen, Daily Life, 108.

    [13] Lorena S. Walsh, “Urban Amenities and Rural Sufficiency: Living Standards and Consumer Behavior in the Colonial Chesapeake, 1643-1777,” The Journal of Economic History 43, no. 1 (March 1983): 117.

    [14] Taylor, Mourning Dress, 78.

  • Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button?

    Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button?

    Aaron Chapman // AMH 4112.001 – The Atlantic World, 1400-1900

    The button. In the eighteenth century, buttons were an essential part of some articles of clothing, though not the same ones we might see today. On women’s clothing, buttons were an unlikely sight.[1] Primarily, you would expect to find buttons prominently featured on a man’s coat, waistcoat, and on his sleeves.

    Waistcoat with buttons from “A Colonial Gentlemen’s Clothing: A Glossary of Terms” on www.history.org.

    In particular, the waistcoat was a consistent article that featured buttons, which were at times closely spaced in order to display quite a number of them at once for the purpose of style.[2] The initial layer, consisted of a long shirt which would not itself be buttoned but rather worn loose or perhaps tied or cinched if necessary. In public, the waistcoat was worn over this shirt as part of a cultural understanding of what constituted being fully dressed.[3] Buttons would also be present on the longer coat, the outermost layer of clothing, which reached to the knee and was an essential piece of fashion for many.[4]

    In the Glassford and Henderson’s Colchester ledger for 1760-1761 in the Ready Money accounts, buttons showed up consistently, with usually two or three purchases a month, though there were a couple months where they didn’t show up at all. It is hardly surprising given that buttons were the sort of thing you may need at any point in the year, rather than an item that was seasonally motivated. With a few exceptions – such as sleeve buttons, which were sold in pairs – buttons were listed as sold by the dozen or, less often, the half-dozen. This suggests that not only were they an item that could be needed at any time, but they were an item on which one would likely “stock up” in preparation for the sewing of new clothing and in anticipation of needing replacements, rather than one which would be purchased only at the time of need.[5]

    Buttons sold in the Ready Money account at Glassford and Henderson’s Colchester store (folio 13).

    For the most part, the ledger lists the buttons sold without any further description. There are a few instances of gilt, “mettle,” or glass button transactions listed, and occasionally it is indicated that the buttons are either “large” or “small,” but by and large, buttons are called simply that and nothing more. It is therefore difficult to say for sure exactly what material type of buttons were typically sold, though wood or bone are perhaps reasonable guesses if the few instances of “mettle” listed indicate that metal was a minority in button material and not the norm.[6]

    Button identified archaeologically at George Washington’s Mount Vernon. Image courtesy of the Mount Vernon’s Midden Project.

    The cost of buttons was small, the average was about one shilling for a dozen buttons, as long as they weren’t of a special material like gilt. The cost could vary wildly from transaction to transaction. In the Ready Money transactions for September 1761, for instance, three transactions adjacent to each other in the ledger list prices of 2 shillings 3 pence for a dozen buttons, then 1 shilling for a dozen buttons, and finally 1 shilling and 6 pence for two dozen buttons. This is a pretty significant swing in price within a short space of time. Perhaps some buyers were more adept at bargaining with Henderson than others or the purchase price variation represented different types of buttons?[7]

    The button. Something most people hardly think about, yet it’s an essential component of many garments, both today and in the past. For the colonial Englishman, it could be both a statement of fashion and a functional means to hold a coat or waistcoat closed. Fortunately for us, it was also something that needed to be replaced often enough that we are blessed with the opportunity to see a glimpse of its purchase.

    Infographic on Buttons

    [1] “Men’s Clothing from the 1770’s” Dress-up Activity, Memorial Hall Museum Online, accessed November 10, 2016, http://memorialhall.mass.edu/activities/dressup/1770_man.html

    [2] Ibid.

    [3] “A Colonial Gentlemen’s Clothing: A Glossary of Terms,” Colonial Williamsburg history.org, accessed November 10, 2016, http://www.history.org/history/clothing/men/mglossary.cfm

    [4] Ibid.

    [5] Alexander Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 10-13 Debit/Credit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [6] Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia Folio 10 Credit, 11 Debit, 12 Debit, 13 Debit/Credit.

    [7] Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia Folio 13 Debit.

  • Linen, The Body Fiber

    Linen, The Body Fiber

    Matthew Gray // AMH 4112.001 – The Atlantic World, 1400-1900

    Linen shirt and Haversack. From the personal collection of Matthew Gray.

    Imagine you wake up one day in colonial America, with no idea why you are there or how you got there. What is the first thing you need to do? Get some clothes so that you fit in and not draw people’s unwanted attention. You would not want to be mistaken for some sort of witch or warlock in this time period. So, how would you do it? Walk down to the local general store and buy yourself a pair of pants, a shirt and some shoes? Good luck finding them already made. You’re most likely going to have to make your own clothing or find someone to make them for you. In order to make your clothing, you will need to buy material such as linen from a store like Glassford and Henderson’s Colchester store in Virginia.[1]

    Linen is a type of fabric woven from the plant fibers of flax. This plant is grown in wet climates and requires nutrient rich soil to grow.  The plant produces a two to three foot stalk that is allowed to rot and then thrashed in order to obtain the long thin fibers used to spin into thread to make the clothing.[2] This process is very time consuming and requires a lot of skilled and unskilled labor to produce.[3] Fine linen is tightly woven and feels comfortable on a person’s skin, which costs more money than coarser linen that would itch and irritate the wearer.[4]

    A factor in determining the price for linen was whether it was shipped to the colony or made in the colony.  The price for linen would also be affected if it was imported from a country other than Britain, because Britain maintained a strict monopoly on manufactured trade in the colonies.  In order for a foreign good to enter the system, it had to pay extra taxes directly to England on top of other fees in order to legally get the product into the American market.[5]

    Examples of “Linnen” purchased by Peter Carter in April 1761, recorded in the Colchester store of Glassford and Henderson (folio 62).

    The price for linen at the Colchester store varied depending on the length sold, as well as the type.  Linen was described as Princess, Russian, Irish, fine, red, white, as well as with no additional description.  Its price varied from one shilling and one pence for only ¼ yard (with no additional descriptor) to 8 ½ yards sold for thirty-five shillings and three pence for fine linen.[6]

    Example of “princess Linnen” recorded in James Doyle’s account on 26 October 1760 in the Colchester store of Glassford and Henderson (folio 48).

    Linen could be considered a mainstay item in colonial times given its high number of purchases recorded in the Glassford & Henderson ledger and as most clothing was made from it.[7] A lot of people made their own clothing using it, as well as many other fabric-based items such as sails, bed sheets, tents, covers, jackets, haversacks and many other items.  Linen would last for many years and wore well through a lot of hard usage.

     

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 10-13 Debit/Credit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] National Park Services. Historic Jamestown: Flax Production in the Seventeenth Century. https://www.nps.gov/jame/learn/historyculture/flax-production-in-the-seventeenth-century.htm (accessed November 9, 2016).

    [3] Ibid.

    [4] Ibid.

    [5] Thomas Benjamin.  The Atlantic World:  Europeans, Africans, Indians, and their Shared History, 1400-1900.  Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2009.

    [6] Henderson, et. al. Folio 61 Debit, Folio 10 Credit.

    [7] Richard Lyman Bushman “Markets and Composite Farms in Early America.” The William and Mary Quarterly, vol. 55, no. 3, 1998, pp. 351–374. www.jstor.org/stable/2674528; Henderson et.al.

  • Imitation Scottish Linen

    Imitation Scottish Linen

    James Wilson // AMH 4112.001 – The Atlantic World, 1400-1900

    After looking through the Ready Money account (1760-1761) of Glassford and Henderson’s Colchester store in Virginia, there were a few items that stuck out to me because I had no idea what they were. One of which was Osnaburg, having never heard of this, I decided to look more into it what it was because I saw it being purchased quite a few times in September, 1761.[1] What was the item? What was it used for?

    Osnaburg was purchased many times in September 1761 at the Colchester store of Glassford and Henderson (folio 13).

    These questions were much easier to find answers to than I thought they were going to be. Osnaburg was a form of linen that was particularly coarse that was originally made in Osnabrück, Germany, which is where the name is derived. Osnaburg was used for quite a few things from napkins, to upholstery, to clothing.[2] The fabric doesn’t seem to have been a luxury item because it was used to make clothing for everyone, including slaves. In a 1761 slave advertisement from the Virginia Gazette, a runaway slave named Joe had been captured and was being held in the public jail in Williamsburg, Virginia, his only clothing described as ‘a ragged Oznabrigs Shirt’.[3]

    An example of an 18th-century Osnaburg man’s work shirt. Image courtesy of Jas Townsend & Son, Inc.

    Something of interest that I found was the probability of where this linen came was made. Osnaburg was originally imported to England from Osnabrück, Germany. By the 1730s, Scotland, which was attempting to become a larger economic power and trader in her own right, started to craft their own version of Osnaburg fabric.[4] The Edinburgh Linen Copartnery even sent one of their executives to Germany to learn how to properly make authentic Osnaburg, which the people particularly wanted.[5] Given the wars in Germany from 1756-1763, which caused their exports to go down, Scotland became the better choice for many nations to buy their fabrics from.[6]

    This revitalization of the economy paid off, after all was said and done, with the work done by the many of the fabric companies, Scotland provided millions of yards of linen that was exported to England and other parts of Europe. This piece of linen that was bought in a small shop was actually a piece of economic revival for Scotland based off of copying a form of linen created by a town in Germany.

     

    Infographic on Osnaburg

    [1]Alexander Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia Folio 13 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 58 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] C. E. Davis. “Inventory of Col. Bridger’s Estate.” The William and Mary Quarterly 22, no. 2 (1942): 186-87. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1925299; Alastair Durie. “Imitation in Scottish Eighteenth-Century Textiles: The Drive to Establish the Manufacture of Osnaburg Linen.” Journal of Design History 6, no. 2 (1993): 71-76. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1315959.

    [3] James Galt. “Runaway Announcement.” Virginia Gazette (Hunter), Williamsburg, January 16, 1761.  http://www2.vcdh.virginia.edu/gos/search/relatedAd.php?adFile=rg61.xml&adId=v1761010146, Accessed December 5, 2016.

    [4] Durie, Alastair. “Imitation in Scottish Eighteenth-Century Textiles: The Drive to Establish the Manufacture of Osnaburg Linen.” Journal of Design History 6, no. 2 (1993): 71-76. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1315959.

    [5] Ibid.

    [6] Ibid.

  • Shalloon Useful and Unknown

    Shalloon Useful and Unknown

    Christian C.deBaca // AMH 4112.001 – The Atlantic World, 1400-1900

    Shalloon, a fun name to come across when learning about life in colonial Virginia, but what is it?
    As found in the Glassford & Henderson 1760-1761 ledger at the Colchester, Virginia store on January 16, 1761, Humphrey Peake purchased 9 yards of Shalloon along with various other fabrics, buttons, and thread.[1] Based on the associated items and its unit price, one could assume that Shalloon was a type of cloth.

    Civilian coat reconstructed by Joel Bohy. Coat of Golsing Green Superfine body and Buff Superfine Shalloon lining. Image courtesy of Historical Textiles (Kochan and Philips Historical Textiles, England).

    What type of cloth was shalloon?  Did it have a specific function?  Who were the general consumers of it? Shalloon was a common fabric in the 18th century that was a thin twill, made of worsted wool, and primarily used for the lining of coats. When considering that it was used for the lining of coats, it comes as no surprise that it was not a common purchase, unless you were crafting your own clothing or needed to replace the lining of your existing coat. The author J. H. Clapham states that Shalloon was a fabric that was worn “by the lower classes of females” but it was also widely used in coats of all demographics including military uniforms.[2] Since Shalloon was not thought of highly, it was affordable, while still not the cheapest fabrics. At the same time, shalloon was known for its versatility and relative ease in dyeing, making it a fashionable choice of cloth for everyone. Not only was shalloon used for clothing, it was also sometimes used in blankets and things like curtains or for the drapery around beds.

    As found in the ready money account and personal accounts in the ledger, shalloon was sold as a raw material typically bought in small quantities along with other clothing related items.  In the Ready Money accounts, of the seven purchases of shalloon, the length of fabric purchased ranged from ½ yard to 5 ½ yards.  It is possible that by comparison, Humphry Peake may have been a tailor, given his purchase was for 9 yards of shalloon. The sale of shalloon seemed to peak during the winter months when production and need for coat linings would have been at its highest.

    Shalloon was a cloth common because it could be used relatively cheaply to line coats.  With that being said, shalloon was not as commonly purchased as other fabrics, such as linen.

    Shalloon was not a cloth that was often exclusively used to make clothing. It stayed relevant for the colonial period due to its multiple uses for home décor and its ability to be dyed easily for custom work.

    Shalloon purchased by Humphry Peake in January 1761 at the Colchester store of Glassford and Henderson (folio 97).

    Infographic on Shalloon

    [1] Alexander Henderson, et. al.  Ledger 1760-1761, Colchester, Virginia folio 97 Debit, from the John Glassford and Company Records, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., Microfilm Reel 61 (owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association).

    [2] J.H. Clapham. “The Transference of the Worsted Industry from Norfolk to the West Riding.” The Economic Journal 20, no. 78 (1910): 199. doi:10.2307/2220916.