“As to the feathered fan, I should also have found it in my heart to let it alone, because none but very grave persons (and of them very few) use it. That now ’tis grown almost as obsolete as Russets and more rare to be seen than a yellow Hood. But the Thing being Civil and not very dear, Remembering that in the years 64 and 68, if I mistake not, you had Two Fans sent, I have bought one now on purpose for you, and I hope you will be pleased.”
Evidently the screen-fan of Pocahontas’s day was no longer a novelty. His mother had had far more fans that he remembered. In 1664 two “Tortis shell fanns” had gone across seas; one had cost five shillings, the other ten shillings. The following year came a black feather fan with silver handle, and two tortoise-shell fans; in 1666 two more tortoise-shell fans; in 1688 another feather fan, and so on. These many fans may have been disposed of as gifts to others, but the entire trend of the son’s letters, as well as his express directions, would show that all these articles were for his mother’s personal use. When finery was sent for madam’s daughter, it was so specified; in 1675, when the daughter became a bride, Brother John sent her her wedding gloves, ever a gift of sentiment. A pair of wedding gloves of that date lies now before me. They are mitts rather than gloves, being fingerless. They are of white kid, and are twenty-two inches long. They are very wide at the top, and have three drawing-strings with gilt tassels; these are run in welts about two inches apart, and were evidently drawn into puffs above the elbow when worn. A full edging of white Swiss lace and a pretty design of dots made in gold thread on the back of the hand, form altogether a very costly, elegant, and decorative article of dress. I should fancy they cost several pounds. Men’s gloves were equally rich. Here are the gold-fringed gloves of Governor Leverett worn in 1640.
Gold-fringed Gloves of Governor Leverett.
Of course the only head-gear of Madam Symonds for outdoor wear was a hood. Hats were falling in disfavor. I shall tell in a special chapter of the dominance at this date and the importance of the French hood. Its heavy black folds are shown in the portraits of Rebecca Rawson ([here]), of Madam Simeon Stoddard ([here]), and on other heads in this book. Such a hood probably covered Madam Symonds’s head heavily and fully, whene’er she walked abroad; certainly it did when she rode a pillion-back. She had other fashionable hoods—all the fashionable hoods, in fact, that were worn in England at that time; hoods of lustring, of tiffany, of “bird’s-eye”—precisely the same as had Madam Pepys, and one of spotted gauze, the last a pretty vanity for summer wear. We may remember, in fact, that Madam Symonds was a contemporary—across-seas—of Madam Pepys, and wore the same garments; only she apparently had richer and more varied garments than did that beautiful young woman whose husband was in the immediate employ of the king.
Arthur Abbott was the agent in Boston through whom this London finery and flummery was delivered to Madam Symonds in safety; and it is an amusing side-light upon social life in the colony to know that in 1675 Abbott’s wife was “presented before the court” for wearing a silk hood above her station, and her husband paid the fine. Knowing womankind, and knowing the skill and cunning in needlework of women of that day, I cannot resist building up a little imaginative story around this “presentment” and fine. I believe that the pretty young woman could not put aside the fascination of all the beautiful London hoods consigned to her husband for the old lady at Ipswich; I suspect she tried all the finery on, and that she copied one hood for herself so successfully and with such telling effect that its air of high fashion at once caught the eye and met with the reproof of the severe Boston magistrates. She was the last woman, I believe, to be fined under the colonial sumptuary laws of Massachusetts.
The colors of Madam Symonds’s garments were seldom given, but I doubt that they were “sad-coloured” or “grave of colour” as we find Governor Winthrop’s orders for his wife. One lustring hood was brown; and frequently green ribbons were sent; also many yards of scarlet and pink gauze, which seem the very essence of juvenility. Her son writes a list of gifts to her and the members of her family from his own people:—
“A light violet-colored Petti-Coat is my wife’s token to you. The Petti-Coat was bought for my wife’s mother and scarcely worn. This my wife humbly presents to you, requesting your acceptance of it, for your own wearing, as being Grave and suitable for a Person of Quality.”
Even a half-worn petticoat was a considerable gift; for petticoats were both costly and of infinite needlework. Even the wealthiest folk esteemed a gift of partly worn clothing, when materials were so rich. Letters of deep gratitude were sent in thanks.