An Archive of Stitches: The Living Histories, Geographies, and Biographies of our Clothes
Organisers: Dr Rebecca Collins and Prof Deborah Wynne
(both at the University of Chester)
An Archive of Stitches: The Living Histories, Geographies, and Biographies of our Clothes
Organisers: Dr Rebecca Collins and Prof Deborah Wynne
(both at the University of Chester)
Textiles and English
surnames
Textile production has had a significant impact on English
history and culture in a number of different ways. For example, we can see in
the grand residences of the Cotswolds the way in which the industry generated
wealth for the area in the Middle English and Early Modern English periods. These
markers of the industry’s influence are often clear to see, yet there are other
ways in which England’s textile-related history has had an effect on the
country’s identity that often go unrecognised, such as the development of its
names. By studying the frequency and etymology of some of the more common
surnames in England, the importance of textile production is further revealed.
Three of the 100 most frequent surnames in the 1881 census
have a clear connection to wool, textiles and clothing. These are Taylor, Walker (from Middle English walker
‘a fuller of cloth’), and Webb (from
Middle English webbe ‘weaver’). We
could also add to this list the names Miller
and Mills, which may have
originally been used to refer to someone who worked at a fulling mill (though
the names may also have been for used for people who worked at different types
of mill, unrelated to textile production). Five out of 100 names may not seem
like a lot, but it’s important to put this figure in context. Out of this list
of 100 surnames, 19 names relate to an occupation of some sort. This means that
five out of 19 surnames in this list, or just over 26% of the most common
occupational names, relate to textile processing and production.
Beyond these broad patterns of occupational surname
frequency, we can also use surnames which have some relation to wool and
textiles to understand other aspects of English identity, such as our dialects
and their distribution. As such names are relatively common, due to the
continued importance of the textile trade in England, they provide a suitable
amount of data for drawing conclusions on dialect usage. The surname Walker (mentioned above) would
originally have been applied to a fuller of cloth, but there are two other
surnames with the same meaning: Tucker and
Fuller. These three surnames have,
and have had, different regional distributions, as shown in the maps below
adapted from 1881 census data (these maps are generated using Steve Archer’s
1881 surname atlas – see http://www.archersoftware.co.uk/satlas01.htm).
We can see that the surname Fuller is
more heavily associated with the south-east, Tucker is associated with the south-west, and Walker is more widespread (though with a significant concentration
in the north of England and the West Midlands). The distribution of these names
reflect the regional usage of the terms full,
tuck, and walk to refer to fulling mills. This usage can also be seen in
English place-names; see Tuckingmill near
Zeal Monachorum in Devon, Walk Mill near
Burnley in Lancashire, and Fulling Mill
Farm near Ardingly in Sussex.
In this way, the textile-related surnames of England don’t
just reflect the influence of the trade on the country’s identity, but also
reveal details of the different dialect terms used in the trade. While this
exemplifies the power of surnames as a source of linguistic information, it
also demonstrates that the textile industry has been so important that it has
had a significant impact well beyond the bounds of the industry itself,
affecting our names and language in such a way that the effects can still be
seen in the frequency and distribution of our surnames today.
by Dr Harry Parkin, Senior Lecturer in Linguistics at the University of Chester
Recently, a fascinating
selection of historic fashion sketches were discovered at Attingham
Park. Whilst undertaking inventory checking work in the textile collection
store in 2018, a National Trust volunteer found this collection of sketches
tucked inside an unassuming historic envelope. These sketches were created by
Teresa Hulton, later the 8th Lady Berwick, between the ages of 11 and 15. Born
in 1890, Teresa created the sketches in the early part of the 20th century.
The sketches are a valuable resource showing what activities and
interests wealthy teenage girls enjoyed at the time. They show family, friends,
ladies’ maids, seamstresses, and outfits seen in operas and plays. Some gowns
appearing to be outfits that survive in the Attingham collection, like the
striped dress Teresa depicts her mother wearing.
In different mediums from ink to pastel, some sketches have been drawn
on whatever paper Teresa had to hand, like her grandmother’s address card. Some
of the sketches have been meticulously cut around to give a 3D effect. Pin
holes in some of the sketches suggest they were displayed. Other pictures seen
in Teresa's letters to her friends show she used her illustrations as modern
teenage girls might do with photographs – sharing images of outfits admired at
parties or picnics. In a letter to a friend, she says how she loved to sketch
her mother in her evening dresses before she left for soirees.
Teresa’s father, the artist William Stokes Hulton, encouraged his
daughters to take an interest in art. William Stokes Hulton was friends with
influential artists like John Singer Sargent and Walter Sickert. Sickert helped
Teresa and her sister, Gioconda, with their own artistic efforts and the girls
sent him their drawings to be commented on. Whilst Gioconda was the one who
developed a real passion for art, Teresa primarily enjoyed creating beautiful
fashion sketches.
Teresa’s interest in fashion paved the way for her future as a
fashionable society beauty featuring in the ‘Vogue’ and ‘Tatler’ magazines. She
also made her own dresses and enjoyed attending fancy dress parties in
historical costumes and outfits from different countries – ideas suggested by
the more fanciful of her sketches.
Holly Kirby (assistant curator,
Attingham Park)
Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-50458343
This is one of the ‘Little Books’ created by Charlotte Brontë
in 1830 when she was 14 years old, an edition of The Young Men’s Magazine which
she and her brother Branwell regularly produced from 1829 onwards. The size of
a matchbox, it was recently bought at auction by the Brontë Parsonage Museum
for £500,000. Its tiny size and neat but cramped handwriting charmingly suggest
the miniature worlds of childhood.
Indeed, cloth
made strange journeys through Victorian society, when a fine lady’s dress would
be passed on to many owners via the second-hand clothing trade, until it eventually
ended up as a servant’s duster, or the rags worn by a beggar. At the very end
of this journey, rags were collected for recycling into paper. Textile recycling
for the Victorians was a major industry, with many of the urban poor making a
living from collecting rags and selling them to dealers who traded with the
owners of paper mills, where the textile waste was manufactured into paper.
Charlotte’s scavenging for scraps of paper in the parsonage at Haworth seems far removed from the experiences of street children in the cities, when many orphans and abandoned children in the early nineteenth century made their living from collecting rags. However, the paper on which she wrote her text offers a link between the rural parson’s daughter and the abandoned street child in the city. The work of the rag-picker was vital to the work of the writer, for paper before 1870 could only be manufactured from rags.
We might wonder why the Brontë children didn’t just ask their father to buy paper for them. The reason is that paper from textile waste was both very expensive to manufacture and subject to the Paper Tax, whereby a levy was imposed on all paper made in Britain until 1860. Recycling, for the Victorians, was not done to save the planet (as it is today), but to save money, a thriftiness which was practised by all but the wealthy. The Victorian writer, Harriet Martineau, wrote in Household Words in 1854 that rags were ‘precious tatters’ and that everyone should keep a ‘rag bag’ in their home to give to the rag-and-bone collectors who visited every street.
It is likely that Charlotte was aware that the scraps of
paper she salvaged for her little book came from rags. Perhaps she fantasised
that the shirt of her hero, the Duke of Wellington, had played a part in its
construction? Certainly, the stories that she and Branwell created as children
turn upon fantastic transformations and improbable happenings, and the journey
from rags to paper was often described as magical. One imaginative child’s
story written in 1830, and now a valuable museum object, was inscribed upon an
object brought about through the labour of many illiterate and exploited
children.
As well as the stories that Charlotte wrote, there are the
hidden stories contained within the paper of this little book. As well as
vulnerable child ragpickers scavenging for cloth on the streets, further back
than that were the children employed in cotton mills and woollen mills, who
worked in dangerous conditions picking fluff from beneath the moving machinery.
Further back still, there may have been the children of slave workers in the
Southern States of America, helping adults to pick cotton. The labour of all
these children is now silently embedded in the sheets of paper on which texts
before the 1870s were written. After 1870, manufacturers in the United States
discovered a way of manufacturing cheap paper from wood-pulp, and expensive ‘rag-paper’
declined.