RUFFS AND BANDS
W
e have in this poem of the old “Water Poet” a definite statement of the
date of the introduction of ruffs for English wear. We are afforded in
the portraiture given in this book ample proof of the fall of the ruff.
A Bowdoin Portrait. A Bowdoin Portrait.
Like many of the most striking fashions of olden times, the ruff was
Spanish. French gentlemen had worn frills or ruffs about 1540; soon
after, these appeared in England; by the date of Elizabeth’s accession
the ruff had become the most imposing article of English men’s and
women’s dress. It was worn exclusively by fine folk; for it was too
frail and too costly for the common wear of the common people, though
lawn ruffs were seen on many of low degree. A ruff such as was worn by
a courtier contained eighteen or nineteen yards of fine linen lawn. A
quarter of a yard wide was the fashionable width in England. Ruffs were
carefully pleated in triple box-plaits as shown in the Bowdoin portrait
here. Then they were bound with a firm neck-binding.
This carefully made ruff was starched with good English or Dutch
starch; fluted with “setting sticks” of wood or bone, to hold each
pleat up; then fixed with struts—also of wood—placed in a manner to
hold the pleats firmly apart; and finally “seared” or goffered with
“poking sticks” of iron or steel, which, duly heated, dried the
stiffening starch. To “do up” a formal ruff was a wearisome, difficult,
and costly precess. Women of skill acquired considerable fortunes as
“gofferers.”
Stubbes tells us further of the rich decoration of ruffs with gold,
silver, and silk lace, with needlework, with openwork, and with purled
lace. This was in Elizabeth’s day. John Winthrop’s ruff (here) is edged
with lace; in general a plain ruff was worn by plain gentlemen; one may
be seen on Martin Frobisher (here). Rich lace was for the court. Their
great cost, their inconvenience, their artificiality, their size, were
sure to make ruffs a “reason of offence” to reformers. Stubbes gave
voice to their complaints in these words:—
“They haue great and monstrous ruffes, made either of cambrike,
holland, lawne, or els of some other the finest cloth that can be got
for money, whereof some be a quarter of a yarde deepe, yea, some more,
very few lesse, so that they stande a full quarter of a yearde (and
more) from their necks hanging ouer their shoulder points in steade of
a vaile.”
Still more violent does he grow over starch:—
“The one arch or piller whereby his (the Devil’s) kyngdome of great
ruffes is vnderpropped, is a certaine kind of liquid matter, whiche
they call starch, wherein the deuill hath willed them to washe and dive
their ruffes well, whiche, beeying drie, will then stande stiff and
inflexible about their necks.
“The other piller is a certaine device made of wiers, crested for the
purpose; whipped over either with gold thred, silver, or silke, and
this he calleth a supportasse or vnderpropper; this is to bee applied
round about their neckes under the ruffe, upon the out side of the
bande, to beare up the whole frame and bodie of the ruffe, from
fallying and hangying doune.”
Starch was of various colors. We read of “blue-starch-women,” and of
what must have been especially ugly, “goose-green starch.” Yellow
starch was most worn. It was introduced from France by the notorious
Mrs. Turner. (See here.)
Wither wrote thus of the varying modes of dressing the neck:—
“Some are graced by their Tyres
As their Quoyfs, their Hats, their Wyres,
One a Ruff cloth best become;
Falling bands allureth some;
And their favours oft we see
Changèd as their dressings be.”
The transformation of ruff to band can be seen in the painting of King
Charles I. The first Van Dyck portrait of him shows him in a moderate
ruff turned over to lie down like a collar; the lace edge formed itself
by the pleats into points which developed into the lace points
characteristic of Van Dyck’s later pictures and called by his name.
Evelyn, describing a medal of King Charles I struck in 1633, says, “The
King wears a falling band, a new mode which has succeeded the
cumbersome ruff; but neither do the bishops nor the Judges give it up
so soon.” Few of the early colonial portraits show ruffs, though the
name appears in many inventories, but “playne bands” are more
frequently named than ruffs. Thus in an Inventory of William Swift,
Plymouth, 1642, he had “2 Ruff Bands and 4 Playne Bands.” The “playne
band” of the Puritans is shown in this portrait of William Pyncheon,
which is dated 1657.
William Pyncheon. William Pyncheon.
The first change from the full pleated ruff of the sixteenth century
came in the adoption of a richly laced collar, unpleated, which still
stood up behind the ears at the back of the head. Often it was wired in
place with a supportasse. This was worn by both men and women. You may
see one here, on the neck of Pocahontas, her portrait painted in 1616.
This collar, called a standing-band, when turned down was known as a
falling-band or a rebato.
The rich lace falling-band continued to be worn until the great flowing
wig, with long, heavy curls, covered the entire shoulders and hid any
band; the floating ends in front were the only part visible. In time
they too vanished. Pepys wrote in 1662, “Put on my new lace band and so
neat; am resolved my great expense shall be lace bands, and it will set
off anything else the more.”
I scarcely need to point out the falling-band in its various shapes as
worn in America; they can be found readily in the early pages of this
book. It was a fashion much discussed and at first much disliked; but
the ruff had seen its last day—for men’s wear, when the old fellows who
had worn it in the early years of the seventeenth century dropped off
as the century waned. The old Bowdoin gentleman must have been one of
the last to wear this cumbersome though stately adjunct of dress—save
as it was displaced on some formal state occasion or as part of a
uniform or livery.
There is a constant tendency in all times and among all
English-speaking folk to shorten names and titles for colloquial
purposes; and soon the falling-band became the fall. In the _Wits’
Recreation_ are two epigrams which show the thought of the times:—
“WHY WOMEN WEARE A FALL
“A Question ’tis why Women wear a fall?
And truth it is to Pride they’re given all.
And _Pride_, the proverb says, _will have a fall_.”
“ON A LITTLE DIMINUTIVE BAND
“What is the reason of God-dam-me’s band,
Inch deep? and that his fashion doth not alter,
God-dam-me saves a labor, understand
In pulling it off, where he puts on the Halter.”
“God-dam-me” was one of the pleasant epithets which, by scores, were
applied to the Puritans.
Reverend Jonathan Edwards. Reverend Jonathan Edwards.
The bands worn by the learned professions, two strips of lawn with
squared ends, were at first the elongated ends of the shirt collar of
Jonathan Edwards. We have them still, to remind us of old fashions; and
we have another word and thing, band-box, which must have been a stern
necessity in those days of starch, and ruff, and band.
It was by no means a convention of dress that “God-dam-me” should wear
a small band. Neither Cromwell nor his followers clung long to plain
bands; nor did they all assume them. It would be wholly impossible to
generalize or to determine the standing of individuals, either in
politics or religion, by their neckwear. I have before me a little
group of prints of men of Cromwell’s day, gathered for extra
illustration of a history of Cromwell’s time. Let us glance at their
bands.
First comes Cromwell himself from the Cooper portrait at Cambridge;
this portrait has a plain linen turnover collar, or band, but two to
three inches wide. Then his father is shown in a very broad, square,
plain linen collar extending in front expanse from shoulder seam to
shoulder seam. Sir Harry Vane and Hampden, both Puritans, have narrow
collars like Cromwell’s; Pym, an equally precise sectarian, has a
broader one like the father’s, but apparently of some solid and rich
embroidery like cut-work. Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon, in narrow
band, Lucius Cary, Lord Falkland, in band and band-strings, were
members of the Long Parliament, but passed in time to the Royal Camp.
Other portraits of both noblemen are in richly laced bands. The Earl of
Bristol, who was in the same standing, has the widest of lace, Vandyked
collars. John Selden wears the plain band; but here is Strafford, the
very impersonation of all that was hated by Puritans, and yet he wears
the simplest of puritanical bands. William Lenthal, Speaker of the
House of Commons, is in a beautiful Cavalier collar with straight lace
edges. There are a score more, equally indifferent to rule.
There is no doubt, however, that the Puritan regarded his plain band—if
he wore it—with jealous care. Poor Mary Downing, niece of Governor
Winthrop, paid dearly for her careless “searing,” or ironing, of her
brother’s bands. Her stepmother’s severity at her offence brought forth
this plaintive letter:—
“Father, I trust that I have not provoked you to harbour soe ill an
opinion of mee as my mothers lettres do signifie and give me to
understand; the ill opinion and hard pswasion which shee beares of mee,
that is to say, that I should abuse yor goodness, and bee prodigall of
yor purse, neglectful of my brothers bands, and of my slatterishnes and
lasines; for my brothers bands I will not excuse myselfe, but I thinke
not worthy soe sharpe a reproofe; for the rest I must needs excuse, and
cleare myselfe if I may bee believed. I doe not know myselfe guilty of
any of them; for myne owne part I doe not desire to be myne owne judge,
but am willinge to bee judged by them with whom I live, and see my
course, whether I bee addicted to such things or noe.”
Ruffs and bands were not the only neckwear of the colonists. Very soon
there was a tendency to ornament the band-strings with tassels of silk,
with little tufts of ribbon, with tiny rosettes, with jewels even; and
soon a graceful frill of lace hung where the band was tied together.
This may be termed the beginning of the necktie or cravat; but the
article itself enjoyed many names, and many forms, which in general
extended both to men’s and women’s wear.
Captain George Curwen. Captain George Curwen.
Let us turn to the old inventories for the various names of this
neckwear.
A Maryland gentleman left by will, with other attire, in 1642, “Nine
laced stripps, two plain stripps, nine quoifes, one call, eight
crosse-cloths, a paire holland sleeves, a paire women’s cuffs, nine
plaine neck-cloths, five laced neck-cloths, two plaine gorgetts, seven
laced gorgetts, three old clouts, five plaine neckhandkerchiefs, two
plain shadowes.”
John Taylor, the “Water Poet,” wrote a poem entitled The Needles
Excellency. I quote from the twelfth edition, dated 1640. In the list
of garments which we owe to the needle he names:—
“Shadows, Shapparoones, Cauls, Bands, Ruffs, Kuffs,
Kerchiefs, Quoyfes, Chin-clouts, Marry-muffes,
Cross-cloths, Aprons, Hand-kerchiefs, or Falls.”
His list runs like that of the Maryland planter. The strip was
something like the whisk; indeed, the names seem interchangeable.
Bishop Hall in his _Satires_ writes:—
“When a plum’d fan may hide thy chalked face
And lawny strips thy naked bosom grace.”
Dr. Smith wrote in 1658 in _Penelope and Ulysses_:—
“A stomacher upon her breast so bare
For strips and gorget were not then the wear.”
The gorget was the frill in front; the strip the lace cape or whisk. It
will be noted that nine gorgets are named with these strips.
The gorget when worn by women was enriched with lace and needlework.
“These Holland smocks as white as snow
And gorgets brave with drawn-work wrought
A tempting ware they are you know.”
Thus runs a poem published in 1596.
Mary Verney writes in 1642 her desire for “gorgetts and eyther cutt or
painted callico to wear under them or what is most in fashion.”
The shadow has been a great stumbling-block to antiquaries. Purchas’s
_Pilgrimage_ is responsible for what is to me a very confusing
reference. It says of a certain savage race:—
“They have a skin of leather hanging about their necks whenever they
sit bare-headed and bare-footed, with their right arms bare; and a
broad Sombrero or Shadow in their hands to defend them in Summer from
the Sunne, in Winter from the Rain.”
This would make a shadow a sort of hand-screen or sunshade; but all
other references seem as if a shadow were a cap. As early as 1580,
Richard Fenner’s Wardship Roll has “Item a Caul and Shadoe 4
shillings.” I think a shadow was a great cap like a cornet.
Cross-cloths were a form of head-dress. I have seen old portraits with
a cap or head-dress formed of crossed bands which I have supposed were
cross-cloths.
Cross-cloths also bore a double meaning; for certainly neck-cloths or
neckerchiefs were sometimes called cross-cloths or cross-clothes.
Another name is the picardill or piccadilly, a French title for a
gorget. Fitzgerald, in 1617, wrote of “a spruse coxcomb” that he
glanced at his pocket looking-glass to see:—
“How his Band jumpeth with his Peccadilly
Whether his Band-strings ballance equally.”
Another satirical author could write in 1638 that “pickadillies are now
out of request.”
The portrait of Captain Curwen of Salem (here) is unlike many of his
times. Over his doublet he wears a handsome embroidered shoulder sash
called a trooping-scarf; and his broad lace tie is very unusual for the
year 1660. I know few like it upon American gentlemen in portraits; and
I fancy it is a gorget, or a piccadilly. It is pleasant to know that
this handsome piece of lace has been preserved. It is here shown with
his cane.
Lace Gorget and Cane of Captain George Curwen. Lace Gorget and Cane of
Captain George Curwen.
A little negative proof may be given as to one word and article. The
gorget is said to be an adaptation of the wimple. Our writers of
historical tales are very fond of attiring their heroines in wimples
and kirtles. Both have a picturesque, an antique, sound—the wimple is
Biblical and Shakesperian, and therefore ever satisfying to the ear,
and to the sight in manuscript. But I have never seen the word wimple
in an inventory, list, invoice, letter, or book of colonial times, and
but once the word kirtle. Likewise are these modern authors a bit vague
as to the manner of garment a wimple is. One fair maid is described as
having her fair form wrapped in a warm wimple. She might as well be
described as wrapped in a warm cravat. For a wimple was simply a small
kerchief or covering for the neck, worn in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries.
Another quaint term, already obsolete when the _Mayflower_ sailed, was
partlet. A partlet was an inner kerchief, worn with an open-necked
bodice or doublet. Its trim plaited edge or ruffle seems to have given
rise to the popular name, “Dame Partlet,” for a hen. It appeared in the
reign of Henry VIII; the courtiers imitating the king threw open their
garments at the throat, and further opened them with slashes; hence the
use of the partlet, which was a trim form of underhabit or gorget, worn
well up to the throat. An old dictionary explains that the partlet can
be “set on or taken off by itself without taking off the bodice, as can
be pickadillies now-a-days, or men’s bands.” It adds that women’s
neckerchiefs have been called partlets.
In October, 1662, Samuel Pepys wrote in his _Diary_, “Made myself fine
with Captain Ferrers lace band; being loathe to wear my own new
scallop; it is so fine.” This is one of his several references to this
new fashion of band which both he and his wife adopted. He paid £;3 for
his scallop, and 45s. for one for his wife. He was so satisfied with
his elegance in this new scallop, that like many another lover of dress
he determined his chief extravagance should be for lace. The fashion of
scallop-wearing came to America. For several years the word was used in
inventories, then it became as obsolete as a caul, a shadow, a cornet.
The word “cravat” is not very ancient. Its derivation is said to be
from the Cravates or Croats in the French military service, who adopted
such neckwear in 1636. An early use of the word is by Blount in 1656,
who called a cravat “a new fashioned Gorget which Women wear.”
The cravat is a distinct companion of the wig, and was worn whenever
and wherever wigs were donned.
Evelyn gave the year 1666 as the one when vest, cravat, garters, and
buckles came to be the fashion. We could add likewise wigs. Of course
all these had been known before that year, but had not been general
wear.
An early example of a cravat is shown in the portrait of old William
Stoughton in my later chapter on Cloaks. His cravat is a distinctly new
mode of neck-dressing, but is found on all American portraits shortly
after that date. One is shown with great exactness in the portrait
here, which is asserted to be that of “the handsomest man in the
Plantations,” William Coddington, Governor of Rhode Island and
Providence Plantations.
Governor Coddington. Governor Coddington.
He was a precise man, and wearisome in his precision—a bore, even, I
fear. His beauty went for little in his relation of man to man, and,
above all, of colonist to colonist; and poor Governor Winthrop must
have been sorely tormented with his frequent letters, which might have
been written from Mars for all the signs they bore of news of things of
this earth. His dress is very neat and rich—a characteristic dress, I
think. It has slightly wrought buttonholes, plain sleeve ruffles and
gloves. His full curled peruke has a mass of long curls hanging in
front of the right shoulder, while the curls on the left side are six
or eight inches shorter. This was the most elegant London fashion, and
extreme fashion too. His neck-scarf or cravat was a characteristic one.
It consisted of a long scarf of soft, fine, sheer, white linen over two
yards long, passed twice or thrice close around the throat and simply
lapped under the chin, not knotted. The upper end hung from twelve to
sixteen inches long. The other and longer end was carried down to a low
waistline and tucked in between the buttons of the waistcoat. Often the
free end of this scarf was trimmed with lace or cut-work; indeed, the
whole scarf might be of embroidery or lace, but the simpler lawn or
mull appears to have been in better taste. This tie is seen in this
portrait of Thomas Fayerweather, by Smybert, and in modified forms on
many other pages.
Thomas Fayerweather. Thomas Fayerweather.
We now find constant references to the Steinkirk, a new cravat. As we
see it frequently stated that the Steinkirk was a black tie, I may
state here that all the Steinkirks I have seen have been white. I know
no portraits with black neck-cloths. I find no allusions in old-time
literature or letters to black Steinkirks.
A Steinkirk was a white cravat, not knotted, but fastened so loosely as
to seem folded rather than tied, twisted sometimes twice or thrice,
with one or both ends passed through a buttonhole of the coat. Ladies
wore them, as well as men, arranged with equal appearance of careless
negligence; and the soft diagonal folds of linen and lace made a pretty
finish at the throat, as pretty as any high neck-dressing could be.
These cravats were called Steinkirks after the battle of Steinkirk,
when some of the French princes, not having time to perform an
elaborate toilet before going into action, hurriedly twisted their lace
cravats about their necks and pulled them through a buttonhole, simply
to fix them safely in place. The fashionable world eagerly followed
their example. It is curious that the Steinkirk should have been
popular in England, where the name might rather have been a bitter
avoidance.
The battle of Steinkirk took place in 1694. An early English allusion
to the neckwear thus named is in _The Relapse_, which was acted in
1697. In it the Semstress says, “I hope your Lordship is pleased with
your Steenkirk.” His Lordship answers with eloquence, “In love with it,
stap my vitals! Bring your bill, you shall be paid tomorrow!”
The Steinkirk, both for men’s and women’s wear, came to America very
promptly, and was soon widely worn. The dashing, handsome figure of
young King Carter gives an illustration of the pretty studied
negligence of the Steinkirk. I have seen a Steinkirk tie on at least
twenty portraits of American gentlemen, magistrates, and officers; some
of them were the royal governors, but many were American born and bred,
who never visited Europe, but turned eagerly to English fashions.
“King” Carter in Youth, by Sir Godfrey Kneller. “King” Carter in Youth,
by Sir Godfrey Kneller.
Certain old families have preserved among their ancient treasures a
very long oval brooch with a bar across it from end to end—the longest
way of the brooch. These are set sometimes with topaz or moonstone,
garnet, marcasite, heliotropium, or paste jewels. Many wonder for what
purpose these were used. They were to hold the lace Steinkirk in place,
when it was not pulled through the buttonhole. The bar made it seem
like a tongueless buckle—or perhaps it was like a long, narrow buckle
to which a brooch pin had been affixed to keep it firmly in place.
The cravat, tied and twisted in Steinkirk form, or more simply folded,
long held its place in fashionable dress.
“The stock with buckle made of paste
Has put the cravat out of date,”
wrote Whyte in 1742.
With this quotation we will turn from neckwear until a later period.