The Fin-de-siècle Bow: 1896

Rhinestone bows ball gown, Jean Philippe Worth, 1903 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/159175?&searchField=All&sortBy=Relevance&deptids=62%7c8&ft=house+of+worth&offset=60&rpp=20&pos=71

It Flaunts From the Bonnet and Adorns the Lapdog.

THE NEW MARLBOROUGH KNOT.

The Bow and the Bloomer Not Harmonious—A Knot That Means Death to the Big Sleeve.

The bow is fashion’s fad. It has burst into bloom everywhere. It is omnipresent. The old, the young, the rich, the poor, every class and condition of femininity has yielded to its magnetic influence and it has become fashion’s crest for 1895. How long it will reign in the feminine heart remains to be seen. Time only can prove that. Gentle woman has cast her own fair form before its shrine and her lingerie, her hosiery, her garters, her shoes, her gowns, her millinery, her neckwear, her fans, flowers, bon bons, her muff, her parasol, every accessory within and every accessory without–everything seen and everything unseen–all, all are decorated with this recent fad of fashion and the power behind fashion’s throne dares not predict where it may end.

Gentle woman has had other fads. She embroidered her gowns with sunflowers and cat tails at one time and in her hand she carried sunflowers and cat tails; later she worshipped at the shrine of the rose, and still more recently she smiled with favor upon the violet. She bowed before Napoleon and Trilby, but her subjection has never in any instance—no, not in all instances put together—been as complete in its nature as in this reign of the bow.

She has gathered the bow from the bric-a-brac and from the piano legs and tied it about her own anatomy—her neck, her knees, her elbows, her waist; she has perched it upon her shoulders and upon her head, and she has encouraged it in every locality to flaunt and obtrude and intrude and protrude, and in all fabrics, and all hues and combinations of hues, solitary and in flocks. It has fluttered; or it has taken root and simply grown and blossomed, and we submit; we are even reconciled. It is absolute femininity; it is in contrast to the new woman and her bloomers. The bow is stationed at the dividing line of sentiment, and while the fin-de-siècle woman bombards our intelligence with her ideas about advancement there is another kind of woman who sews true, old-time feminine sentiment into bows, and with the latter the she bombards the camp of the enemy.

It is impossible to state whether the bow belongs to us on account of its credentials handed down from the period of the empire; whether its popularity is of Japanese origin, or whether it is simply the result of evolution and a final reaction from the English mode that has been in favor for several years. It is with millinery perhaps that the bow takes the greatest liberties. This winter my lady’s bonnet may be simply a bow, and be-spangled or not, just as she likes. It may be built on a wire foundation worn at the front of her head or at the back, and with an aigrette or a jeweled hat pin to stand sponsors for its claim to being a bonnet. It may dart out in front, or flare at the sides, windmill fashion; it may flare at the side of the hat like a great wing, or it may settle over the hat like a pair of wings. It may be as conspicuous as a weather vane or it may nestle back of a bird whose pinions are spread; it may flare at the back of the hat like a bat shaped bulletin, or it may spread its loops to the four points of the compass. It may be even tied in “a true lover’s knot under the chin.” The Priscilla-like maiden is not now much in evidence. The winter-of-’95 maiden is nothing if not smart in her get-up. One of the most striking features in the Vanderbilt trousseau was a Virot bonnet with nodding plumes and wide strings of French flowered ribbon tied under the chin in this same lover’s knot.

The Marlborough bow, now worn at the back of the neck, is named in honor of this new American duchess. Every dark gown must be lighted up by the Marlborough bow and in most daring colors, too, is this startling neck adornment perpetrated. Deep crimson, magenta, rose pink, apple green, yellow, and all flowered, striped brocaded, and combined with every tint in silk, satin or velvet stripes. It is seen in whatever design in four-inch ribbon the manufacturer can produce. Nothing is too gorgeous for the season’s belle or debutante to utilize in the Marlborough collar and bow. She pins the broad ribbon to place in front, and then winds it about her throat and thoroughly effective is the result produced by the startling and assertive bow she ties at the back of her neck. About the folds of this bow cluster little curls of fluffy hair and the shades in the ribbon blend into her fair pink skin. Woe to her, indeed, when the colors do not harmonize with her complexion and repeat their prevailing tone in her eyes!

The bow does not flock as much as it did. On last season’s gown it spread itself like a cluster of butterflies about the dress skirt. It now confines itself more to unexpected places, and it perches where you are not looking for it. At a bridesmaid’s dinner given last week in New York one of the most fetching toilettes was made of lavender crepon, and on one shoulder rose in perpendicular lines the loops and ends of an assertive bow made of watermelon-pink velvet. The fan carried by the same person wore also the same sort of a bow.

The Louis XIV. bow is absolutely the latest, and, by the way, it is this bow that is to liberate us from the thraldom of the huge sleeve. Already that feature in attire is beginning to lower its flag of supremacy. The sleeve begins to droop, its shirring is now falling down around the curve of the shoulder; later it will enjoy its final inflation in the huge puff at the elbow and last the bow on the elbow, as illustrated here, will supersede it. This will be some time hence, but it will come. Who could have predicted four years ago the sleeve as we now behold it?

The florist and the confectioner estimate the value of the bow to enhance the attractiveness of their goods. Even the modern modish funeral does not escape, and a large bunch of white chrysanthemums may be tied with six-inch white satin ribbon and hung on to the middle handle of the casket.

However important are all these conspicuous bows, the true sentiment of the bow never penetrated deeply into the feminine-heart until fair woman applied it to the decoration of her underwear. Every week after she has trimmed her freshly laundered underwear she is as attractive as lace, dimity, dainty ribbon and the half-hidden curves in all their classic outline can make her.  While the bow adorns her underwear, it will stem the tide that tends toward bloomers. My lady ties her robe de nuit with ribbon bows at the neck and wrists and ties a blossom in with the loops. She sews loops of ribbon in among the flounces of her petticoats; she adorns her garters with huge sachet rosettes of ribbon. She runs a tiny ribbon about the neck of her chemise and she perks bows at the shoulders of that same garment. She loops up her nether garments in festoons with bows that duplicate those on the shoulders and she ties her petticoats and her corset covers to place in the same fascinating manner. ‘Tis safe to assert that while she chooses to wield the sceptre of a ribbon bow, as she does now, the world will continue to submit to feminine rule.

HARYOT HOLT CAHOON.

Star Tribune [Minneapolis MN] 24 November 1895: p. 22

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Most interesting. Mrs Daffodil had no notion that bows would stem the riding tide of bloomerism.  Bloomers, whether on or off the wheel, have always been suspect to certain upright members of society.  In 1891, the Rt. Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Western New York, condemned women bicycle-riders, tactlessly stating that they resembled witches on broomsticks. He also objected to what he believed to be the indecorous posture of ladies on the wheel.

Speaking of Bishop Coxe’s objection to women on bicycles, the Boston Herald says: “The Bishop does not appear to understand that the bicycle is not equipped with a side saddle, and that riding astride is the only way to promulgate this interesting vehicle.” We ought not to be surprised, perhaps, if the Boston woman rides astride [or man-fashion as it was called]  a bicycle, but if so she is lonely among her sex in that accomplishment. The women’s bicycles we have seen are provided simply with a seat, and they are no more required to ride astride than sit astride on an ordinary chair. If the good Bishop thinks that women straddle a bicycle as men do theirs he should request some fair Buffalonian to explain to him the difference. Rochester Herald. The Gogebic Advocate [Ironwood, MI] 11 July 1891: p. 2

What the Right Reverend Arthur Cleveland Coxe failed to understand is that there is no surer way to arouse public interest in the novel or indecorous than to denounce it from the pulpit. Bows and Bishops will never ban the bloomer or the bicycle.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The New Year Girl’s Resolutions: 1897

Mrs Daffodil wishes all of her readers a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year. Here are some resolutions for the New Year Girl, 1897:

 

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

A Costly Cycling Suit for a Millionairess Wheelwoman: 1897

SWELL CYCLING SUIT

One Ordered for a New York Girl Is to Cost $715.

The most expensive bicycle suit on record has just been ordered at one of the swellest tailors in New York.

The girl who meets the bill is worth a million in her own right, is an athletic beauty and a reigning belle in the ultra-smart set.

The suit which makes the bill is the most elaborate ever designed in this country. It is lined with silk, finished with jewels and will cost a lump sum of $715.50.

Two “Scott and Adie” shawls at $75 apiece will be employed in making the skirt and jacket. And, by the way, these English shawls are the very latest thing for any sort of fancy outing suit.

The skirt will be stitched half way to the knees, with the lines of stitching not over a sixteenth of an inch apart; this is the new device to stiffen the lower part of the skirt without adding to the weight.

The edges of the jacket are also stitched, and, together with the skirt, it is elaborately braided, which latter touch adds some $25 to the expense.

Bloomers and linings of suit throughout will be of silk—not less than 16 yards of silk to be used, which gives another item of $22.50. With the bloomers having been ordered, half a dozen, [add] interlining of the finest lawn at $2.50 a pair.

Loose jackets are no longer the correct thing for the crack bicyclist. The newest waist is tight-fitting always, and worn with a series of vests and shirt fronts.

It sounds very simple just to say: “I shall order at least three vests for my new bicycle suit,” doesn’t it? Well, that is what the “millionairess” in question did, and these three vests are going to cost $25 apiece. The principal color in her suit is green, so she has ordered one vest of sage green, one of geranium red, embroidered in black and gold, and one of white broadcloth, embroidered in silver. With these vests she will wear snow-white linen shirtfronts and black satin ties.

And $25 is not so very extravagant for a vest, when you stop to consider that the garment is made when the material is wet and has to be molded to the figure.

A Panama straw hat, fawn color and trimmed with scarlet and green, will add one $10 item, and bicycle boots of finest leather will add another of $18. Golf stockings in mixed greens and tans will be worn in place of the high top boot. An entire box of these stockings has been ordered, as it is difficult to match them exactly. Fifteen dollars a half dozen will buy the softest and best in the shops.

But the crowning extravagance of this particular “biking” maid is yet to come. Her belt of elephant green leather is clasped with a buckle of oxidized silver set with emeralds. The buckle is in the form of two bicycle wheels; the rim of each wheel is bordered with small green stones, a large single emerald forming the hub. This trifling decoration to adorn the “slender waist” of the pretty wheelwoman will cost treble the price of her wheel; that is to say, exactly $300. N.Y. Sunday Journal. 

Willmar [MN] Tribune 6 July 1897: p. 6

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: “Scott and Adie” is a misnomer for “Scott Adie,” of The Royal Scotch Warehouse, Regent Street. They were manufacturer to Her Majesty Queen Victoria (and all the foreign courts, said their trade card.) They dealt in homespuns and Cheviots, Shetland shawls, gowns, jackets, suits, tartan ribbons, plaids and rugs.  The vests, which sound delectable, were probably made of felt, which offered protection from wind and damp. Mrs Daffodil is well-versed in basic arithmetic, but even her creative book-keeping skills cannot make out how the items listed above total $715.50. There is some ambiguity in the bloomer department, one fears. Mrs Daffodil makes the total $743.00. $150 for shawls, $25 for braiding, half-dozen bloomers at $25 each ($22.50 + $2.50? or is $22.50 just for silk linings?), $75 for three vests, $10 for hat, $18 for boots, $15 for stockings, $300 for emerald belt-buckle. Or $630.50 if bloomers are $2.50 per, leaving a shortage of $85.00. Perhaps  the extra was for shirt-fronts and ties.

Bloomers and bicycles were the target of much episcopal censure.

 BISHOPS AND BLOOMERS

Rational costume seems to have gotten a set-back in Paris; it is rumored that the Cardinal Archbishop has declared that he will not administer the sacrament to any woman who dons bloomers while riding a bicycle. When a woman once becomes emancipated, neither the fulminations of the church nor the ridicule of the public has any effect upon her.

While bloomers cannot be considered as immoral or indecent, they are so monstrously ugly that any woman who has a regard for her good looks will refuse to wear them. Rational dress does not necessarily mean a costume which is ungraceful and unbecoming; and while the tight corset and the long skirt is hampering to those who engage in bicycling, or any exercise where freedom of movement is desirable, it would seem that some style of costume might be invented which was comfortable and at the same time womanly and becoming.

Godey’s Lady’s Book [Philadelphia, PA] January 1896

Latest Ecclesiastical Commotion.

Speaking of Bishop Coxe’s objection to women on bicycles, the Boston Herald says: “The Bishop does not appear to understand that the bicycle is not equipped with a side saddle, and that riding astride is the only way to promulgate this interesting vehicle.” We ought not to be surprised, perhaps, if the Boston woman rides astride a bicycle, but if so she is lonely among her sex in that accomplishment. The women’s bicycles we have seen are provided simply with a seat, and they are no more required to ride astride than sit astride on an ordinary chair. If the good Bishop thinks that women straddle a bicycle as men do theirs he should request some fair Buffalonian to explain to him the difference. Rochester Herald.

The Gogebic Advocate [Ironwood, MI] 11 July 1891: p. 2

 

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

Saturday Snippets: 3 August 2013: Spiritualist contretemps, ghostly chignon, a widow’s propriety, Bishops and bloomers

A chignon of “grave hair?”

The feminine sense of propriety is keen, but erratic. There is in town a delicious young widow, rich and independent enough to indulge herself in whims. She is an amateur artists, and two forenoons in the week she spends with a brush and palette. Her easel is set up in a room of her residence, and there she receives some of her intimates while painting. She costumes herself very picturesquely for these occasions and delights to have her visitors put on easy, Bohemian airs of artistic life. The gentlemen smoke and the ladies lounge, writes Clara Belle, in the Cincinnati Enquirer. Well, the other day she was found in a black jacket of mourning widowhood and her slipper feet were in jet stockings, but her skirt was light.

“How is it that your dress is not black?” a fellow asked. “I thought you adhered very strictly to mourning yet.” “So I do, gosling,” the pretty widow replied.

“But your dress skirt—“ “I haven’t any on. This is only a petticoat. Do you suppose I would commit such an impropriety as to wear any other dress than black?” She could appear in a petticoat nonchalantly enough, but in any violation of mourning—horror! St. Paul [MN] Daily Globe 22 January 1888: p. 12

NAPOLEON CONFRONTS SÉANCE WEARING BERLIN LAUNDRY CHECK

Weird Form Terrifies Audience Until the Hoax is Discovered, Then Laughter of One of the Spectators is Taken for Mad Fit.

Berlin. Feb. 7. The invocation of the spirit of Napoleon at a séance held at the Spiritist club, known as the “Green Phantom,” had a ludicrous termination. A large audience was assembled in the darkened, purple-draped room when in deep bass tones a voice asked one of the guests, mentioning him by name, whom he desired to see.

The man, a lawyer’s clerk named Schwalbheim, replied with much trepidation, “Napoleon.”

Fifteen minutes’ tense silence followed. Then a weird form approached the platform with measured tread and in a sepulchral voice thus addressed Schwalbheim:

“Behold! I am Napoleon! Draw nigh, O mortal, and tell me what is thy desire!”

At these words the women in the audience shrieked with terror, clinging to their male escorts who themselves were trembling in every limb.

Schwalbheim, however, approached the platform with shaking knees and was just stammering “Illustrious spirit of the great Napoleon,” when he made a remarkable discovery.

On the neck of the uncanny apparition he observed a small shield on which were distinctly visible the words, “B. Schulze, laundry loan institute.”

Schwalbheim burst into loud laughter and leaped at the ghost, who, however, escaped him, disappearing amid horrible imprecations, beneath the flooring.

The terrified guests, who mistook Schwalbheim’s laughter for an outburst of madness, made a wild rush for the door and were only calmed by the man’s explanations. Denver [CO] Post 8 February 1920: p. 60

 A DISTINCTION.

“Mamma, what is the “difference between a divided skirt and bloomers?”

The tender, thoughtful face of the proud mother lighted up with intense pride as she gazed lovingly into the eyes of the precocious little daughter who had displayed such interest in a great subject, as she replied:

“There is really no great difference, darling, but among the really select the bloomer is generally considered to be more manly.” The Clothier and Furnisher, Volume 24, 1897 

BISHOPS AND BLOOMERS

RATIONAL costume seems to have gotten a set-back in Paris; it is rumored that the Cardinal Archbishop has declared that he will not administer the sacrament to any woman who dons bloomers while riding a bicycle. When a woman once becomes emancipated, neither the fulminations of the church nor the ridicule of the public has any effect upon her.

While bloomers cannot be considered as immoral or indecent, they are so monstrously ugly that any woman who has a regard for her good looks will refuse to wear them. Rational dress does not necessarily mean a costume which is ungraceful and unbecoming; and while the tight corset and the long skirt is hampering to those who engage in bicycling, or any exercise where freedom of movement is desirable, it would seem that some style of costume might be invented which was comfortable and at the same time womanly and becoming. Godey’s Lady’s Book January 1896

Revolving Heels to Boots. —We yesterday examined a beautiful boot, made by Robt. T. Harman, to which he has attached what is called the Revolving Heel, an invention of his own, for which he is about to take out a patent. The heel is put on by means of a screw, and can be taken off or put on by a single turn of the hand. A great many persons usually wear one side of the heels off in a few days, and thus, although ‘as good as new,’ make them set uneven and assume an ugly shape. By this invention, it is only necessary to give the screw a slight turn with the hand, and one side of the heel not worn off is made to take place of the one which is gone, so that the boot soon again sets evenly, as well as easily, on the foot. It appears to us to be an excellent invention. —[Balt. Clipper.] The Merchants’ Magazine and Commercial Review, Freeman Hunt, et al, 1848

An Irish gentleman was visited by a friend, who found him a little ruffled, and being asked the reason of it, said he had lost a new pair of black silk stockings out of his room, that had cost him eighteen shillings; but that he hoped he should get them again, for that he had ordered them to be cried, and had offered half a crown reward. The other observed that the reward was too little for such valuable stockings. “Pho,” said the Irish gentleman, “I ordered the crier to say they were worsted. The New London Jest Book, edited by William Carew Hazlitt 1871

Pert miss (in bloomers): “You stare at me, sir, as though you expected to see me wearing horns!”

Innocent young man: “Yes, I thought you might be the gnu woman!” Plain Dealer [Cleveland, OH] 2 October 1895: p. 4

A HORSE’S GOOD FORTUNE.

A SPIRITUALIST came to our house some time ago and claimed to be able to locate our lost friends if we desired. We had an old horse which we had sold years ago, and my mother wanted to know where he was.

Mother began, “We had a very good friend who always did all our work. He passed from us several years ago and the last we ‘heard of him was that he was in Los Angeles. I would like to know if he is still living.”

The spiritualist made certain motions and knocked on the table, and then said, “Your friend is in Los Angeles and is married to a rich young woman.”  Judge’s Library: A Monthly Magazine of Fun, Volumes 202-213, 1906

A WARNING TO WOMAN—THE GHOSTLY CHIGNON

The fashion of wearing more hair than nature ever permitted to grow on the head of woman, has provoked some exceedingly unpleasant revelations. At the time we are told stories of horrid creatures fattening and luxuriating on the scalps of the lovely creatures, on whose heads are piled jute enough to cover a cotton bale. At others, the mind is shocked with stories of grave-yard hair, for which there is but one expressive word in all the dictionary—nasty. Now we have a story more horrid than all. A Boston lady, bent on cutting a shine, purchased a form of hair which is technically called a “switch” whatever that is. On wearing it, she experienced a peculiarly choking sensation that was terrible. Every time the hair was on her head her windpipe was squeezed, and that when no coat sleeve was within sight. A medium was consulted. The fearful story was soon told. The switch was cut from the head of a hanged woman. It had got the gallows kink, and would always choke.

Nor did the revelation end here. Switches always partake of the personality of the one on whose head they grew. If in these days we find a lady with any peculiarities specially strange, all that we have to do is to look after the switch for an explanation. A switch from off a prim old maid may transform a gay coquette into a very staid and proper person. What a pity it is that the fashion of masculine switches is not in vogue. How we might improve our councilmen, aldermen and officials generally by merely changing chignons? Suppose, for instance, that the flowing curls of the beautiful blonde, made into a switch, should grace the head of the chairman of the city finance committee, how would the snail-like progress of the latter be accelerated into a happy medium between speed and safety? How valuable would be a chignon from the head of Aristides surmounting the cranium of Alderman Patton? What would not the reporters give for a switch from the head of Seabrook, or some other glibly-talking auctioneer, to place on the pate of the late acting secretary of the council?

Query—Would not a switch of birch applied a little lower down be equally effective in accelerating speech? We might continue the suggestions ad infinitum, and we have a fancy that much good would result from budding one man’s switch on another man’s pate. Galveston [TX] Tri-Weekly News 10 March 1871: p. 2

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  “Grave-yard hair” was that taken from corpses, perhaps procured by the Resurrection Men. “Live hair” was much more desirable, but also much more expensive. It was often procured by agents scouring the villages of Germany for fair-haired maidens and it was also gotten from Roman Catholic convents where novices’ hair was cut off when they took the veil. A popular, cheaper option than genuine hair was jute–yes, the rope material–but it was subject to insect infestation.

Saturday Snippets 6 July 2013: Dead men’s teeth, fishing with crinoline, a Suffragette spanked, Princess Charlotte in a temper

Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, from the collection of the Royal Pavilion at Brighton.

Dead Men’s Teeth. — Dead Englishmen’s teeth, collected on the battle-fields in the Crimea, are now in great demand by the London and Paris dentists  The price current of human ivory has greatly fluctuated recently, owing to the quantities of deceased soldiers’ masticators put into the market. It is stated the idea first entered the heads of some Londoners to send voyaging clerks to the seat of war in search of teeth. The harvest was a good one, apparently, and promises to yield a remarkable price, as connoisseurs vaunt the superiority of Englishmen’s and Higlander’s teeth over all others. The Medical World: A Journal of Universal Medical Intelligence, Volume 2 20 May 1857: p. 131 

Large fortunes sometimes have queer beginnings. The Gardiner (Me.) News says that one of the wealthiest firms in that state began business on $5,000, which a sister of the partners got in a breach of promise suit for damages against a rich man. Evansville [IN] Courier and Press  30 October 1889: p. 2  

The editor of the Plum Creek Gazette furnishes a practical illustration of woman’s rights. The foreman of the shop is a girl, the printer a girl, and the devil a girl, and such doubt exists as to the sex of the editor that a committee of citizens threaten to make an examination. Omaha [NE] Daily Bee 17 May 1886: p. 5 

A Princess of Spirit

The Princess Charlotte, daughter of George the Fourth, was a young woman of great spirit and originality. One day, one of her teachers chanced to enter the room when the princess was reviling one of her attendant ladies, in great wrath, and after giving her a lecture on hasty speech, he presented her with a book on the subject. A few days later he found her still more furious, and using language even more violent. “I am sorry to find your royal highness in such a passion,” said he; “your royal highness has not read the book I gave you.”

“I did, my lord!” cried she tempestuously; “I both read it and profited by it. Otherwise I should have scratched her eyes out!” – Argonaut

Youth’s Companion, Vol. 64, 1891: p. 485 

[Here is admirable post with many illustrations, about  Princess Charlotte of Wales, only daughter of George IV, her wedding gown and wardrobe. And a fascinating post on a royal reward for one of the ladies who tried hard to keep the “spirited” Princess in check, from the Two Nerdy History Girls.]

A DEVIL, LOOSE FROM HELL

A Human Being Who Flirted at His Dead Child’s Funeral.

New York Dispatch, 27^th

A statement alleged to have been made on her death-bed by Mrs. V. Woodward was to-day read to Justice Bartlett, in the Brooklyn Supreme Court. In it she declared that her husband, George S. Woodward, carried his amours so far that while going to the cemetery to bury his dead child, he tore off the apple blossoms that the mother had put on the coffin and tossed them to flirtatious young women whom they met on the way. The dying declaration was read to convince Justice Bartlett that Mr. Woodward, who is a theatrical man, is not entitled to the custody of his little girl Lillian, aged 3. A number of affidavits were read, in which Woodward is accused by various persons of such crimes as larceny, embezzlement, bigamy, seduction, criminal malpractice, conspiracy, cruelty and extortion .The case was not concluded. Charlotte [NC] Observer 30 June 1893: p. 3

 WHAT HE SAID.

He put his arm around her waist,

And closer drew her head

Unto his own with tender clasp,

And looking downward said:

“You haven’t got the right man, dear;

He’s not quite onto it.

You should have had my tailor, for

Those bloomers do not fit.”

The Clothier and Furnisher, Volume 24, 1897

The militant branch of the Suffragettes has been making the most desperate efforts to hush up the outrageous assault recently made by a gang of medical students at one of the Liverpool Colleges on Miss Christabel Pankhurst, one of the youngest, pluckiest and handsomest of the Suffragettes.

Miss Pankhurst had been attending a meeting and was lured away from her companions after the speeches were over by a band of students, who numbered about ten. Having got her in their power in a small room they locked the door and having submitted her to various, not serious, but humiliating indignities they each deliberately spanked her in turn and then let her go.

Miss Pankhurst was for sending for the police, but her friends dissuaded her as they said it would harm, rather than advance the cause. So the medical students have escaped all punishment and the Suffragettes never even mention Liverpool. Winston-Salem [NC] Journal 26 February 1908: p. 2 

THE yachting craze has been succeeded by the equine mania, which is one of the results of the recent horse show. The girls are wearing belt buckles engraved with horses’ heads, crossed whips, and jockey caps, while the tops of umbrellas consist of ivory, gold, or silver hoofs. Card-cases and portfolios, silver-mounted brushes and dash-board clocks are ornamented with the insignia of the stable, and are lavishly displayed as Christmas presents. Silver and gold brooches, sleeve-links and stick-pins, consist of tiny jockey caps, horses’ heads, whips, etc.; leather belts with harness straps are very stylish—in fact, anything that savors of horsey tradition is quite the thing with the swell women of today. Godey’s Lady’s Book [Philadelphia, PA] January 1896  

Shad Caught in a Crinoline Trap.

A few weeks ago a lady of Rocky Hill, Ct., while passing a brook which runs into the Connecticut, saw two find shad sunning themselves in the stream. The shad looked tempting; the lady coveted them, but had no fishing tackle with her. She finally bethought her of her hoops, took them off, and having tied the upper end, set the contrivance in the brook and drove the unsuspecting shad into the net, when they safely drawn to land, the most cruelly deceived victims of crinoline. Richland County Observer [Mansfield, OH] 9 July 1861:  p. 1

WAITING FOR FRIENDS

A well sinker got up early to his work one morning, and found that the shaft he had been making had “folded in.” Desirous of knowing how much he would be missed, he hung his jacket and waistcoat upon the windlass (as if he had gone down to his digging) and hid himself behind a hedge. Presently, quite a crowd of people gathered around the place–among them his wife–and they all “concluded up” that he was buried alive. The question arose, should they go to the trouble of digging him out, or should they leave him where he was, and save the expense of burial in the proper form? The wife said that, as he had left his jacket and waistcoat behind, it did not much matter. So they abandoned him, as they supposed, to his fate. In the evening he slipped away from the place, a sadder, and a wiser man. In three months he returned home, dressed precisely as he was when he went away, and without a word, took his old place by the fireside. “Why, Jabes,” exclaimed his wife, “where did you come from?” “Wal,” he replied, “I found that none o’ you critters would dig me out, so I set to work myself; and if it hadn’t bin that I got astray in the dark, and dug myself six miles away, I should ha’ bin here afore.” Moral: When you want anything done, don’t die waiting for friends, but go at it yourself!  The Christian Recorder [Philadelphia, PA] 17 April 1869

  Less to Carry and less to Count.—A chimney-sweeper’s boy went into a baker’s shop in the Strand for a two-penny loaf, and conceiving it to be diminutive in size, he remarked to the baker, that he did not believe that it was weight. Never mind that, replied the man of dough; you will have less to carry.— True, rejoined the lad, and throwing three-halfpence on the counter, left the shop. The baker called after him, that he had not paid money enough. Never mind that, hallooed young sooty, you will have less to count.

A Thousand Notable Things, Edward Somerset, 2nd Marquise of Worcester

The Easter Girl of 1897: Prefers her tandem bicycle and driving coaches to a bonnet.

The Easter Girl of 1897

The Easter girl of ’97 will not be a mere clothes horse for the display of the art of the modiste, nor will she be a dummy for carrying a milliner’s creation. Good clothes she will doubtless have, but by far her greatest attention will be paid to the outdoor possibilities of Easter Day and to the costumes which she, as a modern Diana, may wear.

          The Easter girl of ten years ago possessed a new silk gown and a flower hat, and in that she was content to pass Easter between church and “the avenue.” But the Easter girl of this year will take off the silk and the flowers after church and get ready to enjoy God’s air and God’s sunshine with the health which the good God has given her. She will enjoy these in as many new ways as the thought and art of man have been able to invent for her.

          Her newest “trick” is with the automobile carriage. This nice little arrangement is for the mannish young woman who likes to drive herself, but whose parents and friends are afraid of the high steppers for her. The automobile satisfies the needs of both. It is “sporty” enough to satisfy the girl who wants to look very chic, and it is safe enough for anybody.

In Paris, where things travel proverbially slow for woman’s advancement, they have the automobile on the Bois constantly and daily. The prettiest of American women propel the carriages and the fattest faced of little French grooms sit alongside. In America there are a few of these, and many are promised for Easter.

          But the girl who enjoys herself most in the outdoor sports of this spring is certainly the bicycle girl. Now that the ban is removed from the wearing of bloomers, she can put on the little checked trousers, jump on the wheel and ride until every nerve tingles and her cheeks are red with fun. The Eastern girl of ’97 will ride a tandem.

          The thing is to form yourself into a tandem club, the membership being limited to two. The different “clubs” band together into a “league,” and there you have the newest fashioned of women’s clubs. Each “club” has its own uniforms, and the entire “league,” composed of forty or more tandem “clubs,” wears the same hat. By this mark they are recognizable. Most of them wear bloomers. But it is a strange fact, and one illustrating the perversity of the feminine mind that, now that the bloomer ban is removed and there is no objection to the wearing of bloomers, few women cry for them. The forbidden fruit was much more tempting than the freely proffered article. There isn’t the same novelty and naughtiness about the bloomer now and women are discovering how unbecoming it is.

          The horseback young women are becoming so very progressive that they ride a double-sided saddle. This is a strange little affair made for fitting any saddle. You ride out ten miles to a “riders’ retreat,” stop for luncheon, adjust your saddle, and ride back on a different side of the horse. You can ride either right or left.

          For this improvement thanks must be given the bicycle. Physicians discovered, or thought they discovered, that it was unhealthful to ride always on one side, though heaven knows no woman rides enough to hurt herself on the sidesaddle, and hence the either-sided affair. This is, after all, very nice, as it gives one a change; and a change is something the Easter girl of ’97 must and will have.

AN EASTER PICNIC.

There is the strangest Easter fad in the air among the girls of this Easter. You know the old stages that used to perambulate through the streets—do now on certain old thoroughfares—well, they are chartering these carry-alls for Easter expeditions. The game is to invite your friends, fill the “box seat” with eatables, gather up one and all by calling at the door about 2 o’clock, then drive away to the spot where the earliest and biggest Easter violets grow. Of course the girl who charters the caboose and gives the Easter party does the driving. That is part of the Easter program.

          There will be some very nice Easter coaching tours among those who own the coaches. The start is made after luncheon, after the Easter music has been heard, and the stay, if the men can get an Easter vacation, is over Easter Monday. The woman here does the driving also.         

So determined is the Easter woman to spend the first recognized day of spring out of doors that modistes and shopkeepers are bowing to her will. They are furnishing the finest of athletic out-door costumes, fine enough to tempt the caramel and novel-reading woman from her couch and to lure her out into the parks to show the gowns if not to enjoy herself.

Wheeling [WV] Register 4 April 1897: p. 13

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:

In 1891, the Rt. Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Western New York, condemned women bicycle-riders, tactlessly stating that they resembled witches on broomsticks. He also objected to what he believed to be the indecorous posture of ladies on the wheel.

Speaking of Bishop Coxe’s objection to women on bicycles, the Boston Herald says: “The Bishop does not appear to understand that the bicycle is not equipped with a side saddle, and that riding astride is the only way to promulgate this interesting vehicle.” We ought not to be surprised, perhaps, if the Boston woman rides astride [or man-fashion as it was called]  a bicycle, but if so she is lonely among her sex in that accomplishment. The women’s bicycles we have seen are provided simply with a seat, and they are no more required to ride astride than sit astride on an ordinary chair. If the good Bishop thinks that women straddle a bicycle as men do theirs he should request some fair Buffalonian to explain to him the difference. Rochester Herald. The Gogebic Advocate [Ironwood, MI] 11 July 1891: p. 2

 Mrs Daffodil wishes her readers a very happy Easter, whether upon the wheel or at the reins of a coach–or with a box of chocolate cremes and a novel.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.