The Royal Fusiliers in Canada, 1774

Here is the finished bearskin compared to a 1778 drawing of a grenadier by Philip James de Loutherbourg. The height difference is apparent, as is the grenadier's badge at center back. The cord pattern on the 7th Foot cap is completely conjectural, but is similar to surviving examples. Insanely talented Alexa embroidered the Regiment's badge on the madder wool bag. It includes the motto: Honi soit mal y pense. Perhaps some bear hair gel is in order.

Another de Loutherbourg comparison makes the cap height difference clear between grenadiers and fusiliers. The frontlet plate proclaims: Nec Aspera Terrent. Sadly, all the 7th's dress headgear was captured with their colors and a year's worth of clothing at Fort Chambly in October of 1775. Simple cocked hats were worn after that.

The mock "Present" position, with the musket at half-cock. Remarkable that the crease the tin shaping plate puts in the bear hide shows up in the drawing as well. The cap is light and surprisingly comfortable. Best of all, it half folds for storage. It's the perfect balance of intimidating and impractical.

A Perfect Day

Mrs. Delaplace (her name is lost to history) is worried. Strange people appear from the woods and ask pointed questions about the fort. Ticonderoga was more  "composed of decayed wood and earth" than a fortification in 1775. Fortunately, the stone barracks are serviceable.

Captain Delaplace worked his 23-man guard hard. He acquired livestock, and made his family comfortable by hiring servants.  

A middle-aged enlisted man and his wife cook and clean for them. The woman cooks, scrubs, and tends livestock while the man mends and cleans the captain's clothes, helps him dress and sees to his shoes. The battle against rust on fuzee and sword never ends.

Captain Delaplace has written to his superiors with concerns about the post, requesting more men, but it is already too late.

While late, his Drunkenness managed to combine forces with Kitty to deploy a servant team at Fort Ticonderoga this past weekend. The work was pretty constant, and surprisingly pleasurable to toss dirty water and the occasional chicken bone down onto the parade.  Captain Delaplace's gaiters were very tight continuing to lose buttons throughout the day.

Kitty's chicken was a hit, and we actually heated water and washed dishes at table. Note to self: must learn how to tie a sash properly. Also try to attend at least ONE drill with garrison to say hello.

Someone got their frontlet plate. While slightly shorter than surviving examples, it still looks incredibly badass. Both the plated copper and the tin inner plate have a nasty habit of cutting thread, so caution is required. Pull gently.

Next time the leather sweatband and the tin stiffening plate. Sewing through hair can be fun, and cut threads begin in earnest.

Bag It

So THIS happened. Miss Kitty talked me into it. Honestly, I don't feel like I have much to say, but together we could be helpful. We're both obsessed with excruciating little details that most folks ignore. Speaking of which, thanks to Kitty and Alexa for lending their special brand of insanity to the bearskin project.

The cord machine was a huge success, which is great because there is no twisted cord on bearskin caps. Oh well. It works fine on 18th century hats, so it won't go to waste. Here is some braided wool cord in a Monkey Chain for the top. It's upside down and needs to be trimmed. The whitening is obvious, per regulation.

Kitty's tassels have a net stitch over the head. I am still paying for the one I cut accidentally, which required her to make a replacement. Jason kept the cord pattern simple. The tassels finish the ends on the right side.

 Here is the cap, inside out, with the bag partially stitched in. Historic bag examples have three layers: red cloth, rough hemp, and canvas.  Wrangling all that hair is a challenge. It needs to stay out of the seam. Secured at the top and bottom, it's clear easing is required around the sides. At the lower left is the patch to fix the bald spot. The whole cap is still remarkably light.

Next time, the frontlet plate goes on, the leather sweatband starts, and the tin plate goes in.

Give 'Em Enough Rope

Last post of the year. Hoping for more next year. Slightly taller than the originals, the boots now need stretching and finishing. These things are crying out for some pantaloons or stretch pants. Very happy with the finished product. Somehow there are now twice as many Federal Era shoes as 18th century.

Where the boots were simple, the bearskin has spawned a cottage industry. The old Royal regiments were allowed to have their badge embroidered on the cap's wool top. The 7th's device includes a crown, rose, and the Order of the Garter's motto. A delightful woman is willing to take this on. There is plenty left to do.

The cut hide is nearly perfect, with a small hair club for bears problem on the back. As with the period items, the bald spot is patched and the top sewn together into a point. The small triangular patch of soft leather reduces hair bulk behind the frontlet plate. It's also damn comfy.

The seam allowances are all tiny (1/8") with hair trimmed out.  The cap is slightly large to allow for all the metal and lining to come.

As if all that isn't enough, the cap is finished with knotted wool cord arranged in an elaborate pattern with two tassels. Wool cord is hard to find in the correct thickness. Fortunately, machines to make cord are cheap and fun to use. At left is a test batch of 24 strands of lace weight. It came damn close to the 3/16" cord required.

Kitty promised to help make three or four yards of this in January, channelling all those old New England rope walkers. We will need her help with the tassels as well. Once the cord is made it's time to braid. Some surviving caps have a Monkey Braid pattern sewn around the crown. Jason decided to have both tassels behind the right ear as seen in the 1778 de Loutherbourg drawings. More next year.

Hides

With the boot toe up, pressed flat on the floor, here is the cardboard template for the front. The pin marks the center, and the scratch awl is used to trace the new edge. A cut down Teflon cutting board inserted into the boot makes this job easier.

Nearly two inches need to come off the back of the boot, so the canvas pull straps are removed, and their stitch holes made further down. Cutting was nerve-wracking at first, but not difficult.

This is not one of the Frenchmen's helmets from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The secret of 18th century British bearskin caps is a mitre-shaped tin plate. Bent into a curve, it is drilled with holes for stitching. It is sandwiched between the hide and the linen lining, with the front plate over the hair.

The front cutout makes it lighter, more comfortable and it is matched to a small triangle of calf skin sewn into the bear hide. The whole mess at the edge is wrapped with a leather sweatband (velvet for NCOs on up.) One of the Royal Marine caps has holes drilled around the cutout. Since there are no known Fusilier bearskins, the height of the plate was determined by surviving German Fusilier mitre caps.

Here is our legally taken bear hide. Check your local laws before you buy one online. Some states have strict controls on bear parts. The pattern is sketched to take advantage of the hair crown on the back. All the hair should lay up on the cap. The very top of the pattern is cut in a shallow V-shape, for a nice tight seam over the point of the plate. The gradual curve is where the wool bag goes.

Boots and Bearskins

Well that didn't go well. Making two coats at once was a huge mistake. Too many distractions. The regimental coat looks good, but doesn't fit worth a damn. Snug WITH constraint. Perhaps Kitty can make it into a riding habit. The lesson here is patterns need to be revisited and fitting patterns made for everything. Don't rush.

Time to shift gears a bit. This beautiful thing was found during Big Dig construction in Boston's North End. Boots have been around forever. At the start of the 19th century they became fashionable everyday wear for men. High-front "Hessians" and "Suwarrows" copied Central and Eastern European military styles. They were replaced soon after by "Wellingtons" (not the rubber kind.)

No we aren't making boots. We are taking advantage of an excellent boot maker who is flexible. The design is not unlike mid-19th century boots, with changes to the toe and heel. The canvas tabs need to be removed and replaced after the tops are cut.

Another good winter/Apocalypse project is at right. The 1768 British Army clothing warrant gives grenadiers, fifers, drummers, pioneers, and fusiliers the authorization to wear bear skin caps. The fusiliers cap is "not so high," as the others, which are to be twelve inches tall. This fearsome headgear cost over ten times as much as the standard hat. No wonder many regiments (including the 7th Foot,) gave them up as the American War progressed.

The Royal Fusiliers DID arrive in American with them, though none survive. Construction of surviving caps was a bit of a mystery until the 1990s, when the Scottish United Services Museum started conserving the Seafield Collection. These are post-Revolution, but still follow the 1768 warrant. Pioneer, musician and grenadier caps are remarkably similiar, but for some details. Good friend Jason is using this as the basis for a fusilier version and so shall we. Trade in bear parts is legally complex, so stay tuned.