George Morland: A Painter of Rural Life in Georgian England

Domestic Happiness, Morland

When we think of artists during the Georgian era, painters like Hogarth, Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Lawrence immediately come to mind. These days we rarely include George Morland. A prolific painter of rural scenes, he lived from 1763 to 1804. Many of his simple subjects would have been familiar to Jane Austen – children playing, women sewing, a family sitting by a fire, two men sitting outside an inn, people gathering firewood, men walking on a windy day, etc. Click on the first link below to view the most extensive collection on the web of this prolific artist’s paintings.

• Sterling Times: George Morland.

• George Morland, David Henry Wilson, 1907 – biography, Google book

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Seen Over the Ether: Mr. Bennet’s Library in Pride and Prejudice

The abstract of What Was Mr. Bennet Doing in His Library and What Does it Matter? by H.J. Jackson states:

In this article, Jackson uses the familiar example of the Bennet household in Pride and Prejudice to outline some of the practices associated with the establishment and maintenance of a library about 1800. Besides gathering clues from the novel itself and providing information about the resources likely to have been available in or near a market town like Meryton, this essay speculates that Mr. Bennet might have been writing in his books and surveys some of the ways of writing that would have been available to him.

This vastly interesting essay, part of a series of essays on Romantic Libraries, is filled with insights like these:

The possession of a library—of a dedicated space, as well as of a private collection of books—is a clear indicator of status in the novel, reflecting relatively recent social developments. The Bingleys, renting Netherfield, have a room but not many books; their new money will be put to use in this generation by the purchase of property and the beginning of a collection. Darcy has a fine library at Pemberley, “the work of many generations,” to which he is constantly adding. His idea of a “truly accomplished woman” is one who would put it to use, a goddess capable of improving “her mind by extensive reading”. “I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these,” he says. His is the standard to which all aspire. The Bennet library is one of the bonds between Elizabeth’s family and the one that she will marry into: “He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter,” as she defiantly but rather disingenuously declares to Lady Catherine. They have the same social values.

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Princess Charlotte’s Bellflower Court Dress, 1814-1816

Princess Charlotte's Court Dress, 1814-16, also known as the Bellflower Dress

When I saw Princess Charlotte’s bellflower court dress (1814-16) at the Museum of London I remember being transfixed and standing in front of the glass case for a half hour. I could not get over the exquisite details and embroidery of this gossamer thin gown, and wondered at the hours it took to create it, the number of seamstresses that must have toiled over it, and its cost. It was so beautiful that I mistook it for a wedding dress. The train, which showed slight damage where some of the embroidered bells were missing, is similar to the one on Princess Charlotte’s silver net wedding gown. Tradition has it that this court dress was made for Princess Charlotte on her engagement in 1814. The bellflowers were fashioned from silk covered wire and net decorated with silver thread darning and the tiny beads were made from blown glass. (The London Look, p 22)

The Museum of London website states that this sumptuous dress, which is “covered with hundreds of tiny three-dimensional bellflowers, exemplifies the technical excellence of London’s dress-makers in this period. The dress needed 600 hours of conservation work and is so fragile it may never be shown in public again.”

Detail of bells and net embroidery

Short in stature and slightly dumpy, and not known for her fashion sense, Princess Charlotte could easily afford elaborate costumes. Her provisioners included the William King of Pall Mall, a silk mercer, and Mrs. Triaud and Mrs. Bean, London dressmakers who worked on her trousseau. (The London Look, p 22.)

According to a contemporary description, the Princess entered her mother’s drawing room in May 1815 in an exquisitely beautiful dress that (from the description) looked similar to the bellflower dress:

Gold lama and white draperies over a petticoat of rich white satin and gold twisted trimming; train of rich figured white satin, body elegantly trimmed with rich gold and blond lace; head-dress, plume of ostrich feathers, with a beautiful diadem of brilliants; necklace and ear-rings of diamonds. – The London Look, p 24

• Dresses Worn By Princess Charlotte: Museum of London

• Princess Charlotte’s Court Dress

• Museum of  London

• The London Look, Fashion from Street to Catwalk. By Christopher Breward, Edwina Ehrman, Caroline Evans, 2004

Front of gown, Museum of London

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1819 Pelisse Coat: A Modern Reproduction

Image of Jane Austen's pelisse coat

Isn’t Jane Austen’s pelisse coat pretty? It has an oak pattern on a beige and brown ground. The pelisse was donated to the Hamphire Museum in 1993 and can be viewed in this link. View close ups of the coat here.

According to Fashion-Era: “Both the late 18th century and the early 19th century pelisse were three quarter length coat. Later versions had a shoulder cape or capes. It was often trimmed with fur, ruched silk trimmings or satin along its edges.” Pelisses can be without sleeves or with sleeves and vary in length.

1819 Walking Dress, Ackermann's Repository

Lara Corsets and Gowns reproduced a pelisse coat from an 1819 Ackermann fashion plate.  The following is Catherine Decker’s description of this coat: “Walking Dress, featuring Pelisse. This grey pelisse is trimmed with ruby velvet and has a matching ruby velvet bonnet, with ostrich feathers dyed to match. The huge fur muff would stay popular for the next few years, but muffs in the late 1820s were generally of a more reasonable size.”

• Click here to see the modern reproduction and for ordering information.

• Click here for my other post about the Pelisse Coat.

• Pelisses: 1811-1830

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The Life of a Needlewoman in the 19th Century

In December 1859, Florence Nightingale wrote this letter of recommendation to Parthenope Verney:

My dear [Parthenope Verney]

It occurred to me after writing yesterday if you are going to set up a needlewoman under the housekeeper, Mary Jenkins, Bathwoman, Dr. W. Johnson’s, Great Malvern, has a niece, living at Oxford, a first-rate needlewoman, eldest girl of a very large family, who wants or wanted a place. If she is at all like my good old friend, her aunt, she would be a very valuable servant. Perhaps her needlework would be almost too good for your place. I believe she is a qualified “young lady’s maid,” though when I heard of her, she had never been “out,” i.e., in service. Perhaps she has a place. I think it answers very well in a large house to have as much as possible done at home, as little as possible “put out.”

This domestic job as needlewoman – mending, embroidering, making clothes – sounds benign compared to the custom of the Regency and Victorian eras to overwork seamstresses. While plying the needle was a common domestic activity (Jane Austen was known to possess a particular talent in this direction), working class seamstresses were appallingly overworked and underpaid, especially during the heyday of the Industrial Revolution. Many women toiled for long hours in poor lighting conditions, with some going blind from their employment. An apprentice seamstress in a milliner’s shop worked under slightly better conditions, but during the Season when demand for new and fashionable dresses was high, these women would also be pressed to work into the wee hours of the night to complete an order.

The above illustration of Jane Austen sewing comes from Jane Austen: Her Homes and Her Friends by Constance Hill. In Chapter XX, Constance makes the following observation about Jane Austen’s skill as a needlewoman:

Her needlework was exquisite. We have seen a muslin scarf embroidered by her in satin-stitch, and have held in our hands a tiny housewife of fairy-like proportions, which Jane worked at the age of sixteen as a gift for a friend. It consists of a narrow strip of flowered silk, embroidered at the back, which measures four inches by one and a quarter, and is furnished with minikin needles and fine thread. At one end there is a tiny pocket, containing a slip of paper upon which are some verses in diminutive handwriting with the date “Jany. 1792.” The little housewife, when rolled up, is tied with narrow ribbon. “Having been never used and carefully preserved, it is as fresh and bright as when it was first made.

For more on this topic, click on my other post The Life of a Seamstress.

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