Mid 19th Century Quilt Idea

Quilts are hands down one of the most nuanced, complicated, fraught with myth and misinformation corners of textile history. Most of my sewing life, I have been saving scraps from projects hoping to one day turn them into some sort of basic quilt of a form correct to somewhere in the middle to late 19th Century. But while I am always fascinated to read scholarship on the evolution of quilts during the 19th Century, I find myself nowhere close to wrapping my mind around it. Even the seemingly haphazard late Century crazy quilts combine their own brand of specialized joining and stitches, leaving me wondering in the end if the make-do quilts of legend ever existed at all. While artistic license is always a possibility, these two works seem to portray something that may be possible with my random period scraps and novice hands:

The above image appears to be ca. 1850s but I have not found specific information on the date or artist. The bed covering appears to be a simple arrangement of a variety of squares and rectangles. Detail of the piece:

And the following is ca. 1870 Story of Golden Locks Seymour Joseph Guy:

I'm not sure if the detail at the lower left here is meant to portray a decorative curved form of the edge of this quilt or if it is just a fold but this also appears to be an arrangement of random pieces arranged in basic geometric shapes fit together as able:

May be worth a try.

Your's & c.

The Victorian Man

Peach Pie from 1886

Another very well done cookbook from the Victorian period is The Philadelphia Cookbook: A Manual of Home Economics by Mrs. S. T. Rorer, principal of the Philadelphia Cooking School, 1886. this evening, I tried her recipe for peach pie and it turned out very well:

"Line pie dishes with good plain paste. Pare, cut the peaches in halves, and take out the stones, then lay them in the dishes, sprinkle lightly with sugar, add a quarter cup of water, cover with an upper crust, and bake in a quick oven for thirty minutes; or the peaches may be thoroughly rubbed without paring, slightly mashed and baked without stoning."

Use whatever your favorite pie crust recipe is. You'll need seven or eight peaches. We were a little short so, at Amy's suggestion, we added some blackberries to make up the space, which were great. I just cut the peaches into nice sized bits. Bake at 450 degrees for 30 minutes.

Your's & c.
The Victorian Man

Mint Juleps in Victorian England?

Not quite but good effort. In 1845, Englishwoman Eliza Acton published one of the greatest cook books in history. In my personal experience, her book blows the slightly later work by Mrs. Beeton out of the water. She makes a great effort to not only relate contemporary English recipes but acquaint her readers with food and beverages from elsewhere, in this case America. In her entry, "Mint Julep, an American Receipt," she does note that, "...the receipt, which was contributed by an American gentlemen, is somewhat vague." Could be that the American gentleman wasn't letting loose of his secret. One way or another, pursuing further documentation of mint julep methods in the 1840s is now on my agenda.

It comes out rather charming but is brandy based (even though she does note that it doesn't have to be) and lacks any sweetener, which it could have stood (and I do not generally like very sweet beverages).

So here it is:

"'Strip the tender leaves of mint into a tumbler, and add to them as much wine, brandy, or any other spirit, as you wish to take. Put some pounded ice into a second tumbler; pour this on the mint and brandy, and continue to pour the mixture from one tumbler to the other until the whole is sufficiently impregnated with the flavor of the mint, which is extracted by the particles of the ice coming into brisk contact when changed from one vessel to the other. Now place the glass in a larger one, containing pounded ice: on taking it out of which it will be covered with frost work.'"

Acton then notes, "We apprehend that this preparation is, like most other iced American beverages, to be imbibed through a reed...."

I placed it in the freezer for a few minutes instead of placing it in a glass of ice and used a paper straw instead of a reed (plastic straws never touch the lips of real Victorian men)

It was a great little experiment with one country trying to interpret what was going on in another in 1845. Please feel free to contribute your julep history notes in the comments!

Your's & c
The Victorian Man

1888 Ulster Overcoat, Cut Down

Had a couple of cold weather events coming up where I would be able to use my 1890 impression and realized at the last minute that I didn't have a heavy coat suitable for out doors-ing for the period. And the Winter has been cold! So- I had this pattern in my stash for quite a while and decided to mock it up:

This is the Ageless Patterns 1888 Ulster Overcoat. It goes together great and is true to size but you do need to know what you are doing before attempting this one- there aren't many directions and you have to make your own facing pieces, etc., which isn't a big deal if you already know how a coat goes together. I did a short version:

Photo by Josh Wilson

This is handy for being in camp and working on gathering necessary materials in the woods, etc. The short length was a bit of an accident and make-it-work situation, though. Nearly every part of this is recycled materials from other projects.

The outer wool was salvaged from an ill fated 18th Century great coat I attempted more than 10 years ago that was never meant to be and sat in my scrap fabric bin since. This was as long as was possible which, like I said, turned out to be advantageous. It's made up of two old Italian military blankets, which makes it amazing for serious time outdoors, both from a warmth and moisture shield standpoint. The buttons are plain pewter, left over from the first coat I ever made. Maybe not the best choice for 1888 but they were handy and flowed well with the garment. If a better option comes available, they may get replaced.

The lining is what my friend Michael Ramsey described as the ugliest wool he had ever seen. I have never observed such a strong reaction to a piece of non synthetic fabric. There was enough for a suit, but he emphatically declared that such a thing would be an abomination. And he's probably right- it is horrid. An impulse ebay purchase immediately met with regret. But it IS real wool, thick, and insulating. So it became the lining and is working out great.

Finagling old bits to work with the new project

The top of the collar was a scrap of black corduroy with such a fine wale that it's almost velveteen and the pocket lining left over red striped cotton canvas that was also a bag for Amy and a mattress tick for me for camping. As the pattern is drawn, the collar sits with a gap in the middle, which seems fine for the period, but I will correct if I use this pattern again. It winds up looking like the collar on the lady's coat here:

Photo from the collection of Wendi Cox

Plenty of documentation for shorter overcoats during the later days of the 19th Century, including from one of my favorite artists, Jean Beraud:

But I have also had a heavy piece of black wool sitting around that I am looking forward to trying the full length version from. It will also double nicely as a dressing gown pattern.

Your's & c.

The Victorian Man

1886 Bean Croquettes

This one caught my eye this past week in what has honestly become one of my favorite cookbooks in general. An original from 1886:

Thumbing through the vegetable chapter, looking for a side dish for Christmas, I came upon this recipe for Bean Croquettes:

They are a really great and easy period recipe which will even work for a protein option for my historical vegetarian friends if you substitute oil or vegetable shortening for the prescribed "boiling fat." The "pint" of beans works out almost exactly to a 1 lb. package of dried beans and I used white navy beans. Soaked them over night so that a day before I was planning to make the croquettes, I rinsed them again, covered them thoroughly in water, simmered them until they were mashable, and drained them. You don't have to bother with the colander- just a potato masher will do. Otherwise, the directions are perfect. I used crumbs from bread I had made a day or two before but I imagine commercial bread crumbs or even cracker crumbs would do.

Take care not to make them too big (which I kind of did). This is not going to be visually attractive food one way or another but you don't want it to fall apart on you.

Yes- this is, unfortunately, a modern kitchen. One of my life goals is to build one that I can experiment with all of the innovations of the entire Victorian period in one place but, for now, this was an excellent addition to a meal straight from the 1880s. Will definitely appear again on our table!

Yours & c.

The Victorian Man

Don't Call Them 'Blue Jeans' Part II: My New 'Denim Overalls'

This is a follow-up to my last post where I talked about evidence and examples of indigo dyed work pants in the 19th century.

I set out to make the most common sort of pair of denim work pants of the 1880s into the 90s as I could figure. A lot of fabric sold as "denim" these days is too light weight or not the right weave at all. I was able to locate a bit of denim that was, indeed, a heavy cotton drill and a good dark indigo dye.

I've found Past Patterns #014 to be a good base for mid to light 19th Century trousers. I cross referenced with the table on page 86 of Jason MacLochlainn's The Victorian Tailor of common trouser knee and cuff dimensions in the late 19th Century. I copied the back belt from a pair of extant jodhpurs in my collection.

Amy helped me out pinning the break in the front in back. Incorporated a number of tricks of late 19th Century trouser making I have learned over the years with well reinforced seems. They have proven excellent work pants. Been wearing them quite a bit day to day.

Yours & c.,

The Victorian Man

Don't Call Them 'Blue Jeans'; Denim, Jean, Indigo, and Otherwise Blue Trousers That Weren't Levi's in the 19th Century

This post will discuss my research into indigo dyed work pants in the 19th century. In a later post I will talk about how I created my own reproduction of these commonplace trousers.

Please note: this is meant to be a general, digestible summary; an exhaustive report could be a book unto itself.

The iconic "blue jeans" that somehow endure but are also constantly new have such a strong association with the present that I find a lot of reenactors and living history people downright phobic about implementing trouser fabric that even vaguely resembles what is currently known as "blue jean." Not helped, surely by the horror stories most have us have heard and witnessed of some folks blatantly or mistakenly subtly utilizing modern blue jeans in pre-1960s contexts.

For a corroborating perspective/further reading, Ms. Downey has an excellent piece here geared toward history and myth busting regarding Levis here:

A wide a range of shades of blue have been utilized in blue jeans and referred to as "denim," including cotton weights and weaves, which do not resemble at all the heavy cotton drill to which the name was originally applied. The result being that nearly any blue dyed cotton fabric made into trousers makes many reenactors cringe at the inevitability of some ignoramus (fancying himself a clever fellow) inquiring about their "blue jeans."

But work trousers, cotton and otherwise, of such a color and even texture were not an innovation of Levi Strauss at all. The only distinguishing feature of his pants at the time actually seems to have been the rivets. Modern Levis, however, do not resemble denim/jean/indigo trousers of the 19th Century. Even in their classic/early cut versions, the waist line is noticeably low as far as the 19th Century is concerned. Likely because it would seem too foreign to modern customers.

Jean, itself, is a modern misnomer for the fabric of blue jeans. In the 19th Century, "jean" referred to a blended weave of wool and either cotton or linen (linen being either flax or hemp). If the cotton or linen was left natural, with the wool being dyed blue, it can resemble the modern concept of denim or "jean" from a few feet away. This is a legitimate choice for trousers and other garments even early in the 19th Century, when such goods were domestically produced rather than imported (making it frugal for them; modern recreations have often swung the other way price wise). Examples include these breeches belonging to Isaac Shelby, Kentucky's first governor, at the Kentucky Historical Society (ca. 1815):

And this frock coat at Western Kentucky University, accession # 1930.19.3, ca. 1850-60:

And here are some examples of actual mid 19th Century trousers made of blue cotton that to modern eyes might be thought of as denim (though not necessarily qualifying for the technical term).

First, some well known ca. 1840s trousers from the Museum at FIT (thanks to the Two Nerdy History Girls for providing an accessible report):

And second, some details of a fly front pair in a private collection. They are mostly faded to nearly white but some less exposed areas reveal that the original color was blue. Date is difficult to determine. They are very plain and entirely hand stitched. My impression is no earlier than the 1850s and absolutely no later than the 1880s:

A survey of 19th Century art work reveals frequent occurrences of such trousers (specific textile, of course, being impossible to determine). Just a few examples:

Leisure Hours by William Sydney Mount, 1834

James Goodwyn Clooney, Mexican News, 1847

James Goodwyn Clooney, 1847

Rail Shooting by Thomas Eakins, 1876

Even more than two decades after Levi's famous patent, such clothing, in denim, specifically, was still just commonplace work wear. Page 178 of the 1897 Sears, Roebuck, and Co. catalog advertises several "denim overalls" corresponding to images that are what would now be thought of as trousers with "apron overalls" (more like the modern concept of the form of overalls) being a separate product. None of the items were produced by Levi Strauss Co.

NONE of this is intended as a slight to the Levi Strauss products; just as a clarification on their context in the broader 19th Century world.

Yours & c.,

The Victorian Man