Regency Fabrics, Part 35

Here’s another post in our ongoing series on Regency fabrics.

As I have in previous posts, I’ll be examining actual fabric samples glued into several earlier editions of Ackermann’s Repository, samples supplied by the manufacturers and published by Ackermann in order to boost the British cloth-making industry at a time when exporting British goods to Europe was almost impossible because of the Napoleonic war. I'll give you a close-up scan of each sample, the published description if available, and my own observations of the color, weight, condition, and similarity to present-day materials, to give you as close a picture as possible of what these fabrics are like.

Today’s four samples are from the November 1809 issue of Ackermann’s Repository—a recent acquisition! The overall condition of my copy is very good: the page has been trimmed a little close on the sides and is rather darkly toned but not otherwise damaged, and all four fabric samples are present and in good condition, if a little creased in places.

Here we go!

No. 1. A fret-work striped muslin, particularly adapted for gowns, robes, and pelisses. This article is confined to no absolute order of costume, but is equally adapted to the morning, or half dress;though perhaps it more immediately belongs to the former; yet we have seen the simple French frock, buttoned or laced up the back with biassed bosom and short sleeve, formed of this material; and with ornaments of variegated gems, it forms, at once, a dress unobtrusively neat and attractive. It is sold by Messrs. Waithman and Everington, No. 104, Fleet-street, at 4s. 3d. per yard.

My comments: Well, this is interesting. Examining the fabric (a very fine, sheer muslin, definitely designed to be made up with a lining) I thought it looked rather odd—the stripes have these little blobs of thread that are rather untidy and not very attractive. Then I carefully looked at the backside of the sample, and it suddenly made more sense: the stripes are much more regular and even (not to mention attractive.) Could it be that whoever glued in the samples put this one in backward?

 

No. 2. The Arabian Jubilee silk; the most rich and beautiful article which has ever been introduced in the line of full dress. We may fairly commend the taste and invention of the manufacturer of this most splendid article, which is at once both unique and elegant. We need say little to our fair correspondents by way of recommending it to their notice; its attraction is sufficiently striking to the eye of taste, and we venture to predict, that it will be a reigning favourite with the superior order of fashionables during the winter. It is sold by Mr. D. Hodges, No. 12, Henrietta-street, Covent-garden.

My comments: Ah, merchandising; Mr. Hodges was clearly trying to take advantage of George III’s Jubilee celebrations to sell merchandise. It is lovely stuff, though the scan is not doing it full justice—very fluid and shiny (it is silk, after all) in a warm corn-gold, and would make a beautiful evening dress.

 

No. 3. An imperial green shawl print, of the most novel introduction, and which is expected to rank high on the list of winter fashions, as there are considerable quantities preparing at the different manufactories. The pattern is strikingly delicate, and the colours agreeably contrasted; the warm glow of the bright yellow being a seasonable opposition to the cooler shade of the yet lively green. For the more humble order of home costume, morning wraps, or high gowns, this animated article is particularly adapted; and, we doubt not, will be purchased with avidity by females of taste. This print is also sold by Messrs. Waithman and Everington, No. 104, Fleet-street, at 4s. per yard.

My comments: This is cheerful stuff! I like the print atop the twill-weave stripe, though I’m still trying to figure out if it’s supposed to be a floral or just an insouciant little doodle. There has been fading—the green on the reverse is much brighter and livelier. The body of the fabric is light and drape-y, but perfectly opaque.

 

No.4 is a chintz kerseymere for gentlemens’ waistcoats, and displays much appropriate taste and liveliness of invention. There is little need of remark on this article, except to point out the agreeable contrast which waistcoats of this kerseymere, will form to the dark shades of winter coats. It is sold by Messrs. Smith and Co. No. 2 Prince’s-street, Leicester-square, price 16s.

My comments: I’m not entirely sure where the “chintz” in the description comes in; this fabric is like a thick twill (hard to see in the image, but it’s definitely a twill) that has been brushed to a felt-like consistency, not polished and glazed like a twill. It is definitely suitable for a toasty-warm winter-season waistcoat, being quite sturdy and impervious to chill winds.

What do you think of this month’s fabrics? I wouldn't mind one in the Jubilee silk, myself...

 

1810, What a Year It Was...Except When It Wasn’t

Last week I mentioned that I had intended to write a post for my 1810 series about the celebrations in observance of George III’s fifty years on the throne. It was kind of a big deal—only three other monarchs since the Norman Conquest (Henry III, Edward III, and James I—and James only squeaks in because of his years on the throne of Scotland as James VI before he became James I of England) had been fifty years on the throne. I blithely assumed that the king’s jubilee took place in 1810—specifically, on October 25, which was the 50^th anniversary of the day he became king on his grandfather George II’s death in 1760. But all my poking around into the events of 1810 made no mention of a jubilee celebration in 1810. Weird, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t celebrated because of the war, or...or something.

And so I continue to think...until last week's research into a darling Jubilee cloak print from La Belle Assemblee made me dig deeper and discover the real reason why there were no jubilee celebrations in 1810... Because they'd all happened in 1809!

I was able to find a fair bit of information about the jubilee observances themselves, but no explanation for why they were held at the start of the 50th year of his reign and not on the anniversary of his assession. The closest I've gotten to an explanation is that it was generally known that the king's health was not good, and it seems that many people were worried that he might die before the anniversary itself. Evidently plans for celebrations were a bit of a last-minute thing They needn’t have worried: in fact he lived for another ten years, outliving Queen Charlotte, though nine of those were spent in a twilight of dementia. By summer 1809 it looked as thought the poor old man would survive, so the tentative plans began to firm up (evidently the first sign of the impending celebrations was a sharp increase in the cost of candles, which were being hoarded for illuminations.)  Sadly, he would not be able to enjoy many of the spectacles that were eventually held in his honor, because his eyesight was almost completely gone by this time.

So how was the jubilee observed?

The King and the royal family attended a service of thanksgiving at Windsor, where the queen later threw a spectacularly splendid fete for the court. But there were plenty of less solemn observances all over the country: many of the nobility had oxen and sheep roasted and basically held barbecues for their tenants and workers, with games and races and bread and ale to go with the meat. Assembly balls for the middle classes in towns and larger villages and fireworks and illuminations in the cities were also widespread. After the fact many communities erected public monuments and statues in honor of the king's anniversary. And of course, there was merchandise. You can still buy George III Jubilee medals on eBay (yes, really), and for the wealthier souvenir hunter there were commemorative dishes, glassware, and my favorite, a child’s game celebrating the glories of the kings of England.

In a way it was probably a good thing that George's jubilee celebrations happened in 1809; by the actual anniversary of his accession in October 1810 he would be in even poorer health—on the verge of his final collapse (the Regency would be declared in January)—and his beloved daughter Amelia on her deathbed. I doubt anyone would have felt much like celebrating.

The Mystery of the Jubilee Cloak

It’s wonderful how one thing can lead to another in historical research.

Take this charming print from La Belle Assemblée which I recently added to my collection. The line at top calls it a Jubilee Cloak; it’s certainly a bright, celebratory color, isn’t it?  The bottom text reads “Published for La Belle Assemblee #52 by J. Bell, Southampton Str. Strand.”  No date was given, so I jumped on-line to see if I could track down when this print was published. I guessed it had to be 1810, because that was the 50^th year of George III’s reign, and I hoped that the issue of the magazine in which this print appeared would have further information on his jubilee celebrations, because I had not been able to find any information elsewhere and wanted to write a post on his jubilee for my "what happened in 1810" series...a lack of information which seemed odd.

After a good deal of paging through scanned issues of La Belle Assemblée from 1810, I was stymied: there was no Jubilee Cloak in any of them. In fact, the “No. 52” implied that this was from an earlier issue. So on to 1809...and there it was, in the November 1809 issue, listed under “Fashions for December.” (There were also articles on “Authorities touching the actual existence of mermaids” and “Anecdotes of depravity in London from 1700 to 1800”, but that’s for another post. ☺) 

So why wasn’t this listed in an 1810 issue, in which, strictly speaking, it should have appeared since 1810 would have marked his 50^th year on the throne? We’ll discuss that—and the Jubilee—next week.

Oh—and the Jubilee Cloak itself? Here’s what La Belle Assemblée had to say:

A simple Village robe of white corded cambric, a walking length, with long sleeves; ornamented round the bottom with four rows of small tucks; made to sit high in the back, and over the shoulders, meeting in front with a gold broach; trimmed round the neck with vandyked ribband, and confined at the waist by a purple velvet girdle.  A Jubilee cloak, of aurora colored merino cloth; lined with royal purple silk, ornamented with gold braiding; tied at the throat with gold cord and tassels. A Turban hat, with a full plume of shaded down. Necklace and earrings of gold or coral. Shoes of purple Morocco. Gloves of York tan.

“Aurora colored merino”—isn’t that a lovely description? And the royal purple silk lining is most appropriate under the circumstances, don’t you think?