Exterior view of the Deane Forge and Harnessmaking Shop in Williamsburg today. The sign before the door is the coat of arms of the Saddler and Coach Harnessmakers’ Company of London. Redrawn from a photograph.
Adjoining the forge, the saddlery and harnessmaking shop of two hundred years ago has again resumed operation. There the visitor may see examples of saddle and harness work done in the eighteenth-century manner with tools and equipment resembling those shown in the great eighteenth-century illustrated encyclopedia of Denis Diderot.
The basic operations in the making of harness were only two: cutting the hides into appropriate strips and shapes, and stitching the pieces together as needed. Simple as it sounds, skillful choice of the leathers, flawless cutting, and thorough stitching made the difference between good harness and poor. Finish and ornamentation, although not essential to the task of attaching a draft animal securely to its load, made the product distinctive and handsome, and no doubt gave the craftsman more pleasure in the making.
The harnessmaker’s knife had a semicircular or half-moon shape to its blade, with the handle sometimes at right angles to the back of the blade and sometimes with a right-angled tang that put the handle parallel to the back of the blade. For sewing he possessed an assortment of punches and awls and a very important holding device called a “clam.” This last was a hinged wooden clamp with jaws somewhat resembling the shell of a clam. Holding it between his crossed thighs, the harnessmaker used it to hold fast the straps he was sewing, thus freeing both of his hands for the tough job of stitching through heavy leather.
In most essentials, and indeed in most details, the harness of the eighteenth century looked like and functioned like that of today—or of the not-so-distant yesterday before the motorization of everything on wheels. Saddles, at least some of them, were slightly different in shape and detail from the present-day English riding saddle. For their making, as well as for the making of collars, the saddler-harnessmaker needed a variety of tools to pack and shape the stuffing of pads. By and large, however, the result would seem to have been less comfortable to both horse and rider than the modern saddle.
GEORGE WILSON, BOOT AND SHOEMAKER
George Wilson came originally from Norfolk, where his older brother—or perhaps it was his uncle—John Wilson, did boot and shoemaking on a large scale. In May 1771 the Virginia Gazette of Williamsburg carried this advertisement:
I TAKE this Method to acquaint the Publick, and my Customers in particular, that Mess. James Campbell and Company have resigned the SHOE FACTORY in Favour of me, by which Means I carry on double the Trade I did formerly. Gentlemen who may please to favour me with their Orders for Negro Shoes, or others, are desired to send them soon, that I may be capable of supplying them better than it was in my Power last Fall, on Account of the Scarcity of Leather. Ladies and Gentlemen may depend on being supplied with as neat Shoes, either Leather or Calimanco, as any from London; as I have on Hand London, Philadelphia, and New York Calf Skins, red, green, and blue Morocco Leather, Calimancoes of all Colours, and of the best Kinds. Those who choose to favour him with their Custom shall be served on reasonable Terms, by applying to him at the Sign of the Boot and Shoe in Norfolk. JOHN WILSON
Just five months later, announcing his death, the Gazette described John Wilson as a tradesman of “Credit and Reputation in Norfork, whose Industry, Integrity, and whole Deportment, were truly exemplary.” Shortly thereafter the same paper carried the notice that Wilson’s estate would be auctioned and that “The Shoemaker’s Business, in all its Branches, is carried on by George Wilson, Junior, and Company.”
The “Company” here seems to have been John’s widow, for the next advertisement to appear in the Gazette disclosed that her partnership with George Wilson having been dissolved, Mary Wilson “still carries on the Shoemaking Business, in all its Branches.” She was one of innumerable colonial widows whom fate threw into the awkward position of being master craftsmen, at least until they found another man to take over the shop—and very often the household, too.