First Person Redefined

It's been a fantastic couple of weeks. Fort Dobbs is finally open and spectacular. The Museum of the American Revolution reprised their Occupation of Philadelphia event, so Elizabeth Weed and Thomas Nevel returned to amuse the public. Both places were an excellent chance to refine lower class and middle class 18th century characters. The servant at Dobbs was a Virginia man fleeing the frontier war who joined the Carolina Provincials and became an officer's valet. Thomas Nevel was a historic Philadelphian, one of the city's leading builders, stuck between the British, his cheapskate clients (Congress,) and his feelings for the Widow Weed.

  The most important part of first-person interpretation is realizing it's impossible to replicate the 18th century mindset. We have no idea how they thought. Forget about speech patterns as well. We can research their circumstances, read their writing, and place it in the greater context of history. No need to have smallpox or be filthy (a different discussion entirely.)  We can make some good guesses about how they felt through a modern lens and share that with the public. It's the easiest way to make them feel connected to the past.

If Hamilton taught us anything it's possible to make history engaging with a bit knowledge and some theatrics. Puffing on a clay pipe, Thomas Nevel walked around Philadelphia with a stylish cane. If an approaching group smiled and made eye contact it was easy enough to ask them: "have you seen my cow?" We know Nevel owned a cow, and that the British were tearing down fences a soon as they arrived. He might talk about working on Carpenters' Hall and his house at the same time. He could mention his desire to court the Window Weed at the end of her mourning period. It's possible to break down the fourth wall and talk about why Carpenters' Hall was built and what it was used for over the years--mix first and third person.

Since Nevel was vaguely Presbyterian, and filled the Delaware river with obstacles on behalf of the rebels, he might share a pipe with the American prisoners working outside. His dress is a mix of working sort and middle class: stained leather breeches, faded frock coat, white shirt with ruffle and white neck cloth. He tried to impress the Widow Weed (since we know they married after the British left,) but she scorned his unkempt appearance and lack of income.

The valet at Fort Dobbs is a much simpler character who works twice as hard. Polish the officer's shoes, brush his clothes and hat, help him dress. Try and anticipate his needs, as well as keep him hydrated and fed. Pass him drinks on a tray, and gently scold him when he gets dirty. Provincial soldiers were the dregs of society and a servant was one step up from that. His clothing is raggedy, with a regimental coat, and he is barefoot at every opportunity. Class is a huge part of both of these characters.

When first-person comes into it's own is when several of the characters interact. None of this can be scripted and it takes practice. When one of the American prisoners in Philadelphia suddenly turned his coat and took the King's shilling there was a uproar. Nevel told him he had abandoned God, and was quickly silenced by British guards. The prisoner explained his reasons (financial) and showed his Queens Rangers broadside. The crowd got to witness the historic process of soldiers changing sides without thought for the consequences (hanging.)

Muskets aren't for everyone, especially old folks. The recreated past is better with all sorts in it.

High Life under the stairs

It's been awhile. Kitty and I have been engaged in long discussions about time drag and what we want to do in the future. The amount of misogyny and prejudice in certain time periods is depressing. Guns are nice, but I'm having a hard time getting excited about recreating conflict and nothing else.

Deckard's rain coat is a welcome distraction. Kitty's Bernina sewing machine is a joy to use, even for button holes. Collar quilting became swift and actually presentable. Can't wait for the first rain storm after it's finished.

July 2nd, 1777 at Fort Ticonderoga: Always count on these folks to create a rich 18th-century environment of all classes. Their latest event included a servantpalooza of sorts. The New Englanders that made up the Rear Guard included a dozen officers. There was not quite enough help for all of them, and some had never taken on the role of servant before, but it went surprisingly well.

Kitty was tasked with feeding the servants (the officers had their own cook.) Since we were not paid, she broke into the Officer of the Day's quarters and stole from the Army payroll. There was a pleasant tension between the camp followers and the servants. If done correctly, serving is hard work. Lots of stairs between kitchen and quarters. What happens when your captain is late to a meal and the lieutenant asks you to do some sewing for him? Cleaning and polishing shoes in the dark is tedious. Without an actual economy it's hard to do things like laundry and gambling. It's also hard for 21st-century Americans to stop saying "please" and "thank you" to those below them. Maybe they were never good at it.

The right tools help. At left are the contents of a simple American servant's wallet. Clockwise, from lower left: Napkins, a rag and tin cup, "The American Crisis," wads of tow, shoe cleaning and blacking brushes, a linen cap, brick dust, a sewing kit and white ball, an oil bottle, comb, and dish washing brush, a pipe, button stick, and black ball. Not pictured: a clothes brush, apron, and a nice bottle of port stolen by the colonel's servants. This just in: prosthetic muttonchops have been delivered via post. More on that later.


  

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.

Pad Stitching

Preserv'ed Tailor remembered his apron this past weekend. The Craven County militia captain appreciated his service and there were extra monies. Our hero used them to pay the laundresses to darn his stockings.  To refine things further, a small box would be useful. Time to add shaving supplies, cleaning brushes &c. Interactions with the other men, sutlers, and laundresses are becoming more refined and realistic.

The 1771 rebellion of farmers in the North Carolina backcountry added a whole new dimension to being a servant. Shoot at the poor in the morning, refill the rich officer's ink pot so he can write out fines for militia infractions in the afternoon. The ironic circle of history.

The fitting pattern for the tailcoat required quite a bit of material removed around the back seams. Ideally, this should be taken from the middle of the fronts in a vertical line. The lazy way (shown here) wrecks havoc with the arm holes. Material needs to be added to make them vertical and right on the edge of the shoulder. With the test sleeve fitted, a savage chalking by Kitty corrected this. This coat is loaded with interfacing, and all of it, as well as the lining and body bits, need to be tuned to the fitting pattern.

Weak past attempts at pad stitching will not do for this coat. It's time to turn to an expert. Whichever evil knucklehead refined pad stitching for men's collars, it has been done this way on bespoke suits ever since. Left handedness is not helpful here. Rory makes it look easy. The under collar has the appearance of a pox sufferer.

Time to cut cloth. Sadly, laundering made it very soft and removed much of the hand it once had. Here is the under collar draped across the coat lining, which gets a light pad stitch to hold the shoulder shape. Our demonic familiar observes the proceedings with some interest. Similar dense stitching is needed on the coat body lapel to match the collar.

The collar interfacing needs trimming and the edges will be turned. The edges of the lining interfacing get whipped to the body to prevent movement. The right one gets a pocket.  We'll do that next time. ALSO: more pad stitching.

Servant

Back to Dobbs, where the ratio of women, children, and dogs to Provincial soldiers is just right for an 18th-century frontier fort. Sandbyland. Lovely Carolina weather: 80 degrees during the day, 30 at night. The site director kindly allowed his drunkenness to be a valet for two days, a chance to up the common soldier game and stay busy. The Letenant's dual role made him hard to locate at times, but his possessions were always handy.

Friday was school day at the site. Showing 500 children how a musket works has it's moments. When asked about the practicality of the mid-18th century uniform, one young girl quipped "it was probably the swag of the day." Still time in the evening for work. Shoes need cleaning and black ball. Hot water from the laundress is helpful. The officer's coat is thoroughly brushed, tape restitched, and a pocket flap repaired. A vain fellow, our officer cannot grow long hair, so his wig needs redressing.

All this happens after hours, which begs the question if you interpret history and no one is there to see it, what's the point? The skills are still useful. The laundresses experimented with indigo in their rinse water to get just the right shade of blue for white linen. The public has a role to play, but are they required? It's a challenge to mesh the duties of the soldier with those of the servant: dressing both of us before formation, and preparing a noon day meal right after drill. Always keep the port glass full.

 Meanwhile, Red Shoes laundry boils dozens of shirts and stockings in the blazing sun. After drying, stockings are darned and repaired. Not everyone has this level of obsession. Others get bored easily. The officer's clean shirts have no marks: time to paint initials on them. The scrounged tablecloth needs mending. Here is hobby as work. Dressing the part and learning facts is only half the battle.

With enough fatigue it's possible to stuff a huge rag down a dry musket barrel while cleaning. Rookie mistake #5 means a stuck rammer and barrel removal with primitive tools. Thanks to Todd and his viselike grip the breech plug came out. Blacksmiths are 18th-century superheros. The servant role requires further exploration, but next time we'll start an early 19th century summer suit.