Reverend Jonathan Edwards.
The bands worn by the learned professions, two strips of lawn with squared ends, were at first the elongated ends of the shirt collar of Jonathan Edwards. We have them still, to remind us of old fashions; and we have another word and thing, band-box, which must have been a stern necessity in those days of starch, and ruff, and band.
It was by no means a convention of dress that “God-dam-me” should wear a small band. Neither Cromwell nor his followers clung long to plain bands; nor did they all assume them. It would be wholly impossible to generalize or to determine the standing of individuals, either in politics or religion, by their neckwear. I have before me a little group of prints of men of Cromwell’s day, gathered for extra illustration of a history of Cromwell’s time. Let us glance at their bands.
First comes Cromwell himself from the Cooper portrait at Cambridge; this portrait has a plain linen turnover collar, or band, but two to three inches wide. Then his father is shown in a very broad, square, plain linen collar extending in front expanse from shoulder seam to shoulder seam. Sir Harry Vane and Hampden, both Puritans, have narrow collars like Cromwell’s; Pym, an equally precise sectarian, has a broader one like the father’s, but apparently of some solid and rich embroidery like cut-work. Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon, in narrow band, Lucius Cary, Lord Falkland, in band and band-strings, were members of the Long Parliament, but passed in time to the Royal Camp. Other portraits of both noblemen are in richly laced bands. The Earl of Bristol, who was in the same standing, has the widest of lace, Vandyked collars. John Selden wears the plain band; but here is Strafford, the very impersonation of all that was hated by Puritans, and yet he wears the simplest of puritanical bands. William Lenthal, Speaker of the House of Commons, is in a beautiful Cavalier collar with straight lace edges. There are a score more, equally indifferent to rule.
There is no doubt, however, that the Puritan regarded his plain band—if he wore it—with jealous care. Poor Mary Downing, niece of Governor Winthrop, paid dearly for her careless “searing,” or ironing, of her brother’s bands. Her stepmother’s severity at her offence brought forth this plaintive letter:—
“Father, I trust that I have not provoked you to harbour soe ill an opinion of mee as my mothers lettres do signifie and give me to understand; the ill opinion and hard pswasion which shee beares of mee, that is to say, that I should abuse yor goodness, and bee prodigall of yor purse, neglectful of my brothers bands, and of my slatterishnes and lasines; for my brothers bands I will not excuse myselfe, but I thinke not worthy soe sharpe a reproofe; for the rest I must needs excuse, and cleare myselfe if I may bee believed. I doe not know myselfe guilty of any of them; for myne owne part I doe not desire to be myne owne judge, but am willinge to bee judged by them with whom I live, and see my course, whether I bee addicted to such things or noe.”
Ruffs and bands were not the only neckwear of the colonists. Very soon there was a tendency to ornament the band-strings with tassels of silk, with little tufts of ribbon, with tiny rosettes, with jewels even; and soon a graceful frill of lace hung where the band was tied together. This may be termed the beginning of the necktie or cravat; but the article itself enjoyed many names, and many forms, which in general extended both to men’s and women’s wear.
