BATTS AND BROAGS, BOOTS AND SHOES
O
ne of the first sumptuary laws in New England declared that men of mean
estate should not walk abroad in immoderate great boots. It was a
natural prohibition where all extravagance in dress was reprehended and
restrained. The “great boots” which had been so vast in the reign of
James I seemed to be spreading still wider in the reign of Charles. I
have an old “Discourse” on leather dated 1629, which states fully the
condition of things. Its various headings read, “The general Use of
Leather;” “The general Abuse thereof;” “The good which may arise from
the Reformation;” “The several Statutes made in that behalf by our
ancient Kings;” and lastly a “Petition to the High Court of
Parliament.” It is all most informing; for instance, in the trades that
might want work were it not for leather are named not only “shoemakers,
cordwainers, curriers, etc.,” but many now obsolete. The list reads:—
“Book binders.
Budget makers.
Saddlers.
Trunk makers.
Upholsterers.
Belt makers.
Case makers.
Box makers.
Wool-card makers.
Cabinet makers.
Shuttle makers.
Bottle and Jack makers.
Hawks-hood makers.
Gridlers.
Scabbard-makers.
Glovers.”
Unwillingly the author added “those _upstart trades_—Coach Makers, and
Harness Makers for Coach Horses.” It was really feared, by this
sensible gentleman-writer—and many others—that if many carriages and
coaches were used, shoemakers would suffer because so few shoes would
be worn out.
From the statutes which are rehearsed we learn that the footwear of the
day was “boots, shoes, buskins, startups, slippers, or pantofles.”
Stubbes said:—
“They have korked shooes puisnets pantoffles, some of black velvet,
some of white some of green, some of yellow, some of Spanish leather,
some of English leather stitched with Silke and embroidered with Gold
&; Silver all over the foot.”
A very interesting book has been published by the British Cordwainers’
Guild, giving a succession of fine illustrations of the footwear of
different times and nations. Among them are some handsome English
slippers, shoes, jack-boots, etc. We have also in our museums,
historical collections, and private families many fine examples; but
the difficulty is in the assigning of correct dates. Family tradition
is absolutely wide of the truth—its fabulous dates are often a century
away from the proper year.
The Copley Family Picture. The Copley Family Picture.
Wedding Slippers and Brocade. 1712. Wedding Slippers and Brocade. 1712.
Buskins to the knee were worn even by royalty; Queen Elizabeth’s still
exist. Buskins were in wear when the colonies were settled. Richard
Sawyer, of Windsor, Connecticut, had cloth buskins in 1648; and a
hundred years later runaway servants wore them. One redemptioner is
described as running off in “sliders and buskins.” American buskins
were a foot-covering consisting of a strong leather sole with cloth
uppers and leggins to the knees, which were fastened with lacings.
Startups were similar, but heavier. In Thynne’s _Debate between Pride
and Lowliness_, the dress of a countryman is described. It runs thus:—
“A payre of startups had he on his feete
That lased were up to the small of the legge.
Homelie they are, and easier than meete;
And in their soles full many a wooden pegge.”
Thomas Johnson of Wethersfield, Connecticut, died in 1840. He owned “1
Perre of Startups.”
Slippers were worn even in the fifteenth century. In the _Paston
Letters_, in a letter dated February 23, 1479, is this sentence, “In
the whych lettre was VIII d with the whych I shulde bye a peyr of
slyppers.” Even for those days eightpence must have been a small price
for slippers. In 1686, Judge Samuel Sewall wrote to a member of the
Hall family thanking him for “The Kind Loving Token—the East Indian
Slippers for my wife.” Other colonial letters refer to Oriental
slippers; and I am sure that Turkish slippers are worn by Lady Temple
in her childish portrait, painted in company with her brother.
Slip-shoes were evidently slippers—the word is used by Sewall; and
slap-shoes are named by Randle Holme. Pantofles were also slippers,
being apparently rather handsomer footwear than ordinary slippers or
slip-shoes. They are in general specified as embroidered. Evelyn tells
of the fine pantofles of the Pope embroidered with jewels on the
instep.
So great was the use and abuse of leather that a petition was made to
Parliament in 1629 to attempt to restrict the making of great boots.
One sentence runs:—
“The wearing of Boots is not the Abuse; but the generality of wearing
and the manner of cutting Boots out with huge slovenly unmannerly
immoderate tops. What over lavish spending is there in Boots and Shoes.
To either of which is now added a French proud Superfluity of Leather.
“For the general Walking in Boots it is a Pride taken up by the
Courtier and is descended to the Clown. The Merchant and Mechanic walk
in Boots. Many of our Clergy either in neat Boots or Shoes and
Galloshoes. University Scholars maintain the Fashion likewise. Some
Citizens out of a Scorn not to be Gentile go every day booted.
Attorneys, Lawyers, Clerks, Serving Men, All Sorts of Men delight in
this Wasteful Wantonness.
“Wasteful I may well call it. One pair of boots eats up the leather of
six reasonable pair of men’s shoes.”
Jack-boots. Owned by Lord Fairfax of Virginia. Jack-boots. Owned by
Lord Fairfax of Virginia.
Monstrous boots seem to have been the one frivolity in dress which the
Puritans could not give up. In the reign of Charles I boots were
superb. The tops were flaring, lined within with lace or embroidered or
fringed; thus when turned down they were richly ornamental. Fringes of
leather, silk, or cloth edged some boot-tops on the outside; the
leather itself was carved and gilded. The soldiers and officers of
Cromwell’s army sometimes gave up laces and fringes, but not the
boot-tops. The Earl of Essex, his general, had cloth fringes on his
boots. (See his portrait facing here; also the portrait of Lord Fairfax
here.) In the court of Charles II and Louis XIV of France the boot-tops
spread to absurd inconvenience. The toes of these boots were very
square, as were the toes of men’s and women’s shoes. Children’s shoes
were of similar form. The singular shoes worn by John Quincy and Robert
Gibbes are precisely right-angled. It was a sneer at the Puritans that
they wore pointed toes. The shoe-ties, roses, and buckles varied; but
the square toes lingered, though they were singularly inelegant. On the
feet of George I (see portrait here) the square-toed shoes are ugly
indeed.
James I scornfully repelled shoe-roses when brought to him for his
wear; asking if they wished to “make a ruffle-footed dove” of him. But
soon he wore the largest rosettes in court. Peacham tells that some
cost as much as £;30 a pair, being then, of course, of rare lace.
Joshua Warner. Joshua Warner.
_Friar Bacon’s Brazen Head Prophecie_, set into a “Plaie” or Rhyme, has
these verses (1604):
“Then Handkerchers were wrought
With Names and true Love Knots;
And not a wench was taught
A false Stitch in her spots;
When Roses in the Gardaines grew
And not in Ribons on a Shoe.
“_Now_ Sempsters few are taught
The true Stitch in their Spots;
And Names are sildome wrought
Within the true love knots;
And Ribon Roses takes such Place
That Garden Roses want their Grace.”
Shoes of buff leather, slashed, were the very height of the fashion in
the first years of the seventeenth century. They can be seen on the
feet of Will Sommers in his portrait. Through the slashes showed bright
the scarlet or green stockings of cloth or yarn. Bright-colored
shoe-strings gave additional gaudiness. Green shoe-strings, spangled,
gilded shoe-strings, shoes of “dry-neat-leather tied with red ribbons,”
“russet boots,” “white silken shoe strings,”—all were worn.
Red heels appear about 1710. In Hogarth’s original paintings they are
seen. Women wore them extensively in America.
The jack-boots of Stuart days seem absolutely imperishable. They are of
black, jacked leather like the leather bottles and black-jacks from
which Englishmen drank their ale. So closely are they alike that I do
not wonder a French traveller wrote home that Englishmen drank from
their boots. These jack-boots were as solid and unpliable as iron,
square-toed and clumsy of shape. A pair in perfect preservation which
belonged to Lord Fairfax in Virginia is portrayed here. Had all
colonial gentlemen worn jack-boots, the bootmakers and shoemakers would
have been ruined, for a pair would last a lifetime.
Shoe and Knee Buckles. Shoe and Knee Buckles.
In 1767 we find William Cabell of Virginia paying these prices for his
finery:—
£ s. d. 1 Pair single channelled boots with straps 1 2 1
Pair Strong Buckskin Breeches 1 10 2 Pairs Fashionable Chain
Silver Spurs 2 10 1 Pair Silver Buttons 6 1 fine
Magazine Blue Cloth Housing laced 12 1 Strong Double
Bridle 4 6 6 Pair Men’s fine Silk Hose 4 4 Buttons
&; trimmings for a coat 5 2
New England dandies wore, as did Monsieur A-la-mode:—
“A pair of smart pumps made up of grain’d leather,
So thin he can’t venture to tread on a feather.”
Buckles were made of pinchbeck, an alloy of four parts of copper and
one part of zinc, invented by Christopher Pinchbeck, a London
watchmaker of the eighteenth century. Buckles were also “plaited” and
double “plaited” with gold and silver (which was the general spelling
of plated). Plated buckles were cast in pinchbeck, with a pattern on
the surface. A silver coating was laid over this. These buckles were
set with marcasite, garnet, and paste jewels; sometimes they were of
gold with real diamonds. But much imitation jewellery was worn by all
people even of great wealth. Perhaps imitation is an incorrect word.
The old paste jewels made no assertion of being diamonds. Steel cut in
facets and combined with gold, made beautiful buckles. A number of rich
shoe and garter buckles, owned in Salem, are shown here.
These old buckles were handsome, costly, dignified; they were becoming;
they were elegant. Nevertheless, the fashionable world tired of its
expensive and appropriate buckles; they suddenly were deemed
inconveniently large, and plain shoe-strings took their place. This
caused great commotion and ruin among the buckle-makers, who, with the
fatuity of other tradespeople—the wig-makers, the hair-powder makers—in
like calamitous changes of fashion, petitioned the Prince of Wales, in
1791, to do something to revive their vanishing trade. But it was like
placing King Canute against the advancing waves of the sea.
Wedding Slippers. Wedding Slippers.
When the Revolutionists in France set about altering and simplifying
costume, they did away with shoe-buckles, and fastened their shoes with
plain strings. Minister Roland, one day in 1793, was about to present
himself to Louis XVI while he was wearing shoes with strings. The old
Master of Ceremonies, scandalized at having to introduce a person in
such a state of undress, looked despairingly at Dumouriez, who was
present. Dumouriez replied with an equally hopeless gesture, and the
words, “Hélas! oui, monsieur, tout est perdu.”
President Jefferson, with his hateful French notions, made himself
especially obnoxious to conservative American folk by giving up
shoe-buckles. I read in the _New York Evening Post_ that when he
received the noisy bawling band of admirers who brought into the White
House the Mammoth Cheese (one of the most vulgar exhibitions ever seen
in this country), he was “dressed in his suit of customary black, with
shoes that laced tight round the ankle and closed with a neat leathern
string.”
When shoe-strings were established and trousers were becoming popular,
there seemed to be a time of indecision as to the dress of the legs
below the short pantaloons and above the stringed shoes. That point of
indefiniteness was filled promptly with top-boots. First, black tops
appeared; then came tops of fancy leather, of which yellow was the
favorite. Gilt tassels swung pleasingly from the colored tops. Silken
tassels—home made—were worn. I have a letter from a young American
macaroni to his sweetheart in which he thanks her for her
“heart-filling boot-tossels”—which seems to me a very cleverly
flattering adjective. He adds: “Did those rosy fingers twist the silken
strands, and knot them with thought of the wearer? I wish you was
loveing enough to tye some threads of your golden hair into the
tossells, but I swear I cannot find never a one.” The conjunction of
two negatives in this manner was common usage a hundred years ago;
while “you was” may be found in the writings of our greatest authors of
that date.
In one attribute, women’s footwear never varied in the two centuries of
this book’s recording. It was always thin-soled and of light material;
never adequate for much “walking abroad” or for any wet weather. In
fact, women have never worn heavy walking-boots until our own day.
Whether high-heeled or no-heeled they were always thin.
The curious “needle-pointed” slippers which are pictured here were the
bridal slippers at the wedding of Cornelia de Peyster, who married
Oliver Teller in 1712. Several articles of her dress still exist; and
the background of the slippers is a breadth of the superb yellow and
silver brocade wedding gown worn at the same time.
When we have the tiny pages of the few newspapers to turn to, we learn
a little of women’s shoes. There were advertisements in 1740 of
“mourning shoes,” “fine silk shoes,” “flowered russet shoes,” “white
callimanco shoes,” “black shammy shoes,” “girls’ flowered russet
shoes,” “shoes of black velvet, white damask, red morocco, and red
everlasting.” “Damask worsted shoes in red, blue, green, pink color and
white,” in 1751. There were satinet patterns for ladies’ shoes
embroidered with flowers in the vamp. The heels were “high, cross-cut,
common, court, and wurtemburgh.” Some shoes were white with russet
bands. “French fall” shoes were worn both by women and men for many
years.
Mrs. Abigail Bromfield Rogers. Mrs. Abigail Bromfield Rogers.
Here is a pair of beautiful brocade wedding shoes. The heels are not
high. Another pair was made of the silken stuff of the beautiful sacque
worn by Mrs. Carroll. These have high heels running down to a very
small heel-base. In the works of Hogarth we may find many examples of
women’s shoes. In all the old shoes I have seen, made about the time of
the American Revolution, the maker’s name is within and this legend,
“Rips mended free.” Many heels were much higher and smaller than any
given in this book.
Mrs. Carroll’s Slippers. Mrs. Carroll’s Slippers.
It is astonishing to read the advocacy and eulogy given by sensible
gentlemen to these extreme heels. Watson, the writer of the _Annals of
Philadelphia_, extolled their virtues—that they threw the weight of the
wearer on the ball of the foot and spread it out for a good support. He
deplores the flat feet of 1830.
In 1790 heels disappeared; sandal-shapes were the mode. The quarters
were made low, and instead of a buckle was a tiny bow or a pleated
ribbon edging. In 1791 “the exact size” of the shoe of the Duchess of
York was published—a fashionable fad which our modern sensation hunters
have not bethought themselves of. It was 5 3/4 inches in length; the
breadth of sole, 1 3/4 inches. It was a colored print, and shows that
the lady’s shoe was of green silk spotted with gold stars, and bound
with scarlet silk. The sole is thicker at the back, forming a slight
uplift which was not strictly a heel. Of course, this was a tiny foot,
but we do not know the height of the duchess.
I have seen the remains of a charming pair of court shoes worn in
France by a pretty Boston girl. These had been embroidered with paste
jewels, “diamonds”; while to my surprise the back seam of both shoes
was outlined with paste emeralds. I find that this was the mode of the
court of Marie Antoinette. The queen and her ladies wore these in real
jewels, and in affectation wore no jewels elsewhere.
In Mrs. Gaskell’s _My Lady Ludlow_ we are told that my lady would not
sanction the mode of the beginning of the century which “made all the
fine ladies take to making shoes.” Mrs. Blundell, in one of her novels,
sets her heroine (about 1805) at shoe-making. The shoes of that day
were very thin of material, very simple of shape, were heelless, and in
many cases closely approached a sandal. A pair worn by my great-aunt at
that date is shown on this page. American women certainly had tiny
feet. This aunt was above the average height, but her shoes are no
larger than the number known to-day as “Ones”—a size about large enough
for a girl ten years old.
White Kid Slippers. 1815. White Kid Slippers. 1815.
It was not long after English girls were making shoes that Yankee girls
were shaping and binding them in New England. I have seen several old
letters which gave rules for shaping and directions for sewing
party-shoes of thin light kid and silk. It is not probable that any
heavy materials were ever made up by women at home. Sandals also were
worn, and made by girls for their own wear from bits of morocco and
kid.
In the early years of the century the thin, silk hose and low slippers
of the French fashions proved almost unendurable in our northern
winters. One wearer of the time writes, “Many a time have I walked
Broadway when the pavement sent almost a death chill to my heart.” The
Indians then furnished an article of dress which must have been
grateful indeed, pretty moccasins edged with fur, to be worn over the
thin slippers.
An old lady recalled with precision that the first boots for women’s
wear came in fashion in 1828; they were laced at the side. Garters and
boots both had fringes at the top.