The Rise of Striped Trousers

A few months ago I was preparing to attend Before the Siege: The British Army at Yorktown. As part of the organizing effort for the naval contingent, I compiled all the images I have collected dating to 1781 to get a snapshot of what artists thought sailors should look like in that period. I was surprised at how many were wearing striped trousers.

Detail from A Man of War Towing a Frigate into Harbour,
Carrington Bowles, 1781, British Museum.

This led me to wonder how prevalent striped trousers were over the course of my era of study. Focusing, for now, only on the art created during the time, I put together a graph showing the presence of trousers in the available art.

Out of 416 images that can be tightly dated, 231 depict sailors in trousers. I have included all images of trousers, including plain (generally prints which were not colored), white, and striped. The remaining images depict petticoat breeches, breeches alone, or the sailor's clothing below the waist is too indistinct to draw any conclusions. The orange line represents the total number of works included, and the blue represents the number of those pieces that depict a sailor wearing trousers.

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Trousers (plain, white, and striped altogether) are relatively constant in their presence in most depictions of sailors from 1740 through 1790. This is not true of striped trousers.

Click to Enlarge

Striped trousers are not present in any significant numbers until a sudden explosion beginning in 1779.

I can only speculate as to the reasons for this sudden popularity. Perhaps it was tied with the rising tide of identifying the common sailor as a personification of Britain, like patriotic bunting. Or maybe the opposite is true and it was loosely linked (as it would later be to the sans-culottes of the French Revolution) to a perceived democratic fervor among the lower ranks of society, as we can see in the 1781 political cartoon The Virtuous and inspir'd State of Whigism in Bristol 1781.

Detail from The Virtuous and inspir'd State of Whigism in Bristol 1781,
artist unknown, 1781, British Museum

I stress that these are mere theories, and I have not dug any deeper than pure numbers based on artistic depictions alone. Stay tuned, because I'll be examining other specific garments in the near future!

On Handkerchiefs

Courtesy of The Mariners’ Museum and Park, Newport News, VA
Detail from Earl of Cornwallis Bound to Bengal, William Gibson, 1783

A short time ago, a reenactor asked about how to wear neckcloths as a sailor of the mid to late eighteenth century. I thought it was about time to put down my observations. These are partly lifted from my comments in the thread over at the Facebook group Rev War Reenactors, but greatly expanded with images and quotes from common sailors of the period.

To start off, I should first define what garment we're talking about. I have thus far used the term 'neckcloth' for this blog because I thought that term was clear in precisely what it was referring to: a cloth worn about the neck by sailors. It turns out that sailors themselves did not refer to them as such.

Hannah Snell, the woman who disguised herself as a man to serve as a marine and 'merry tar' afloat, used a handkerchief to conceal her identity when she was sentenced to flogging in about 1747:

When she was Whipt on board, her Hands being lashed to the Gangway, she stood upright, and tied a Handkerchief round her Neck, to prevent, as it were, any Lashes that she might accidentally receive there, to conceal her Breasts, which were covered by the Ends of the Handkerchief falling over them, and thereby prevented a Discovery which must unavoidably have happened, had not she thus acted.

Christopher Prince told of the various garments his female cousins sewed for him in 1766 as he was preparing to sail away:

They made me a number of stocks, which I always wore when I was on shore in the place of a handkerchief around my neck.

Olaudah Equiano remembered narrowly escaping death when a fire broke out in his cabin in 1773:

All this time I was in the very midst of the flames; my shirt, and the handkerchief around my neck were burnt, and I was almost smothered in the smoke.

Samuel Kelly related an event that may have happened in 1782:

I have been informed that a seaman in London, having received an order on Drummand & Co., Bankers, for his wages, tied the paper in the corner of his neck handkerchief, and by inquiry found the house at Charing Cross where he requestd to see Mr. Drummond, and on being introduced, asked, 'Is your name Drummmond?' On receiving a reply in the affirmative, he produced and handed Mr. D. the order saying, 'There's a tickler for you!! But don't distress yourself if you have not so much money in the house. Give me two or three guineas just for a night's cruise, and I'll call again for the remainder.'

Jacob Nagle spoke of being robbed in 1787:

In the morning when I awoke, the Governors barges cap that I wore was gone, my handkerchief off my neck, and what money I had about me was gone. 

Common sailors referred to these garments as handkerchief, or (in the case of one) a neck handkerchief. In the near future, I will be editing every post on this website to reflect this more accurate terminology. For more on neckwear, the vocabulary surrounding it, and how it was used, be sure to check out Ruth Hodges' presentation from earlier this year. I am indebted to Ruth for help on this post.

Photo from General Carleton Shipwreck, page 193.

It is also helpful to note that common sailors appear to have worn their neckwear differently from masters and naval officers. Officers usually wore neckstocks that were carefully tied and tucked into their waistcoats. In the case of Captain Wilkinson's portrait, where an officer affects the dress of a common sailor, his handkerchief is tied and tucked in a fashion far more becoming an officer and a gentleman than Jack Tar or Tom Pipes.

Courtesy of The Mariners’ Museum and Park, Newport News, VA
Detail from Captain Andrew Wilkinson, Gabriel Mathias, 1755, Mariners' Museum.

Common sailors generally wore the handkerchief over their shirt collar and outer garments. There is a tendency among sailor-reenactors/living historians to tuck the neckcloth under the collar like a modern necktie, an error I myself have committed.

To be sure, some sailors did wear their handkerchiefs as such, but the majority of primary source images contradict this. The detail below shows the handkerchief clearly being worn over the outer jacket.

Detail from A New Method of Macarony Making, As Practiced at Boston
in North America, Carington Bowles, 1775, University of Wisconsin Digital
Library for the Decorative Arts and Material Culture.

In this detail from George Carter's Death of Captain Cook, you can also see the handkerchief being worn over the sleeved waistcoat of the sailor climbing into the boat. The sailor on the right does have his collar peeking above the handkerchief, which is tied just a few inches from the base of his neck.

Detail from Death of Captain James Cook, George Carter, 1783, National Library of Australia.

In this detail from Benjamin West's painting, you can see that the neckcloth is worn over the outer garments. The sailor in the back wears his a bit loose, but tied in a different knot than the fellow in Death of Captain Cook.

Detail from Penn's Treaty with the Indians, Benjamin West, 1771-1772,
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Art via With Art Philadelphia.

In Copley's Watson and the Shark, the standing sailor helping row the oar wears his handkerchief close around the neck, but once again over his outer garments with only a hint of the collar beneath.

Detail from Watson and the Shark, John Singleton Copley, 1778,
National Gallery of Art

As to knotting the handkerchief, you can't really do it wrong. You can see a variety of knots in the images above, but it's easiest to just do a square knot. That appears to be how it is tied in the cartoon below.

Detail from Saint George for England, Carrington Bowles, 1781, British Museum

The distance of the knot from the throat does appear to change over time. From the 1740's through the 1760's, the handkerchief was worn close around the neck in virtually every print and painting in which a handkerchief can be seen.

The Wapping Landlady, engraved from the Original Painting in Vaux Hall Gardens,
published by Carrington Bowles, 1743, British Museum

Detail from A New Sea Quadrant, George Adams, 1748, Houghton
Library, Harvard University via Capitu Tumblr.

Detail from  Much Ado About Nothing, artist unknown, 1756,
American Antiquarian Society.

Detail from For Our Country, Samuel Boyce,
1758, British Museum.

It is only in the 1770's that handerkchiefs start to loosen around the necks of sailors in art. It is quite possible that it began in the 1760's, but if this is the case, I've not yet found any evidence of it. With that said, through 1790, the handkerchief is either closely tied or hanging just a few inches below the neck.

By 1790, most images still show handkerchiefs being worn close by sailors, but a few hint at the trend in the early nineteenth century (as pointed out by my brother blogger over at Napoleonic Tars) to wear the handkerchief very low indeed.

Detail from My Poll and My Partner Joe, Isaac Cruikshank,
1790, Walpole Library

As I have said before, we must be aware of a very real possibility of artistic bias. Most artists whose works I have featured on this website were not sailors. As such, it is quite likely that most sailors we see depicted are representative of what the artist thought they should look like, rather than what they actually wore. Very few sailor artists exist, and we cannot take the few images of theirs which clearly show a sailor wearing a handkerchief as being representative of the nameless thousands who formed the British and American ships that populated the Atlantic world.

Detail from A sailor bringing up his hammock, Pallas, Gabriel Bray,
1774, National Maritime Museum

Even so, we can draw broad generalizations from the hundreds of images that depict sailors in the mid to late eighteenth century.

Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs, 1782

Frontispiece to A Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs, by James Aird, published by J. McFadyen, 1782, Internet Archive.

Special thanks to follower Adam Hodges-LeClaire for pointing this one out.

Published late in the American Revolutionary War, Aird's five volume work was dedicated to 'the Vounteer and Defensive Bands of Great Britain and Ireland.' It contained music to inspire the soldiers and sailors in the defense of their homeland, the suppression of the rebellious colonies, and the invasion of foreign territories.

The figures in the frontispiece represent a grenadier and highland solider, and two sailors. The grenadier tramps on the seal for Spain, and the soldiers stand on the banner of France. Recognizing the presumed motivations of sailors, an open chest of coins lays beside them.

Both sailors wear long trousers that end above the ankle and taper a bit close to the leg. Both wear jackets with drop collars, turned back cuffs, and matching lapels. One wears a double breasted waistcoat, and the other wears a single breasted waistcoat. They both sport bob wigs and round hats, though the fellow on the left has a uniformly upturned brim with tape, and the other's hat is turned up on both the left and right and bears some sort of device on the front. One sailor holds a curved cutlass still in its sheath.

Sailors' Hair

There were a lot of assumptions that I had going in to this project. Among them was that sailors wore long queues bound tight down their backs. This was in no small way influenced by the detailed Pirates and Patriots of the American Revolution, originally published in 1984 and an introduction to life at sea during the American War of Independence for generations of young readers.

For the record: almost nothing on this page is correct.

To be fair to Keith C. Wilbur, he was well intentioned and immensely readable for a young audience. Nonetheless, Wilbur's work was not academically rigorous. Abundant primary source images produced in my period of study directly contradict that idea that sailors wore long and tightly bound "rattails."

Detail from A Marine & Seaman fishing off the Anchor
on board the Pallas in Senegal Road, Gabriel Bray, 1775, National Maritime Museum.

Detail from A View of ye Jason Privateer, Nicholas Pocock,
c1760, Bristol City Museums.

The purpose of cutting hair short is unclear. It is easy to assume, and perhaps correct, that cutting hair to shoulder length and lower prevented that hair from getting wrapped in the lines with which sailors must necessarily work.

Seamen relaxing on the Pallas, Gabriel Bray, 1774, National Maritime Museum.

In the Bray image above, we see a "seaman" wearing a long, tightly bound pigtail in 1774. However, his hat is that of the marines, and all of Bray's other images clearly depicting common sailors shows them with short hair, as in the image below.

Seaman Leaning on a Gun on the Pallas, Gabriel Bray, 1775,
National Maritime Museum

One of the reasons sailors may have avoided long pigtails was that such queues were identified as distinctly French.

Detail from Ann Mills, Served on Board the Maidstone Frigate,
R. Graves after unknown artist, original date unknown, National Maritime Museum.

In the above image, the possibly fictional female sailor Ann Mills holds the decapitated head of a Frenchman with a long queue. In the image below, a sailor humiliates personifications of the Dutch, Spanish, and French by using the Frenchman's severed queue to whip a Spaniard.

Detail from The British Tar's Triumph, Thomas Colley, 1783, British Museum.

Short hair may also have been seen as a marker of the subculture of common sailors, like their blue jackets, cocked hats worn reversed, and walking sticks. American sailor Jacob Nagle, then serving in the Royal Navy, remembered the justice meted out to the first lieutenant of the 74 gun Ganges, probably in early 1784. Variously described by Nagle as 'a villen and a terror to a seamen,' and 'a rail tarter to a seaman':

[Edward Riou] was coming a cross the fields to the hard way in the night. He was atack'd by three sailors, and they got him down and cut his long hair off, close to the neck, though he was a strong, powerful man, but they did not hurt him any other way, but he could never discover who they ware that done it.

Perhaps this was a way of reducing Riou to the level of the seamen he so terrorized.

If short hair was indeed a cultural marker, the transition from the short hair worn by sailors for most of my period of study may have left a superstitious imprint when the transition began to long plaited pigtails. From the memoirs of Samuel Kelly, relating an incident in 1783:

I requested one of my shipmates to comb and tie my hair, for which purpose I sat under the bow of the boat. While we were at this work the master came forward to see what we were about, and being very superstitious, he flew into a great passion and gave us to understand that it was no wonder we experienced such a foul wind when such trash (as me) was combing his hair in the night.

Kelly's anecdote comes shortly before the publication of the first image I'm aware of that clearly shows a long, tightly plaited pigtail:

The True British Tar, Carrington Bowles, 1785, collection unknown.

Notably, Bowles' piece depicts a sailor wearing a wig, and not his own hair. Nonetheless, it is a departure from the usual sailors' short bob wig. Around 1790, just as my study ends, pigtails become more common.

Detail from Ban-yan Day on board the Magnificent; or,
Pease Porridge hot from the Coppers!, John Nixon, 1789, British Museum.

I still do not know when precisely the transition began from short hair to long pigtails, but it was clearly late in the eighteenth century.

The Press Gang, c.1760

The Press Gang, John Collet, c.1760's, from The Foundling Museum.

I was directed to this image by The 18th Century Material Cultural Resource Center. Among their many excellent slideshows are a few focused on naval material culture.

Unfortunately, the Foundling Museum does not have a date for this piece. The 18th Century Material Culture Resource center gives this an approximate dating of c.1760's. Based on the clothing worn by men and women throughout this painting, I would agree with that approximation. As with many tavern scenes of the time, this is a chaotic piece with a lot going on.

Starting at the far left is a tar sharing a word with a woman, possibly his wife. He gestures toward a boy who holds what appears to be a British flag. The sailor wears the familiar reversed cocked hat, perhaps with the brim bound in tape. The tar's blue jacket ends about the middle of the thigh, with slash cuffs. His neckcloth and waistcoat are both red, and his white petticoat trousers that end just below the knee. Gray stockings lead to round toe shoes, but the quality of this copy does not allow us to see the buckles. The boy also wears the dress of a sailor: a round hat with cylindrical crown bound in white tape, blue jacket, and plain white trousers.

In the right of the frame, a pair of sailors drag a poor chap before woman on her knee, pleading for his release. The jack on the left is wearing a  cocked hat, red neckcloth, blue short jacket, petticoat trousers, and plain white or gray stockings. His mate on the right is wearing precisely the same slop clothes, though he might be holding a walking stick.

In the foreground at the right is a sailor lounging on a bench and lifting a lidded tankard. His cocked hat is turned with the point forward, and he wears a red jacket. The petticoat trousers hang long, but we can still see the gray or white stockings about his legs.

In the background a mess of tars play cards and carouse with women. They wear cocked hats and cocked hats, and the bareheaded mariners on the right wear bob wigs. Though the image is faded, they appear to be wearing red neckcloths and waistcoats.

The True British Tar, 1785

The True British Tar, Carington Bowles, 1785, British Museum.

Beyond the window lies a ship at anchor, but clearly our sailor is a bit more focused on the sacks of Spanish dollars he's procured. His table is scattered with coins and bedecked with bottles of Madeira. Lying against the box on which he sits is a neglected pipe, spilling its flames and smoking worryingly.

Our mariner wears a round hat lined with gold tape, and decorated with a blue bow (typical of works by Carington Bowles). Flowing from beneath is a wig with a long, tightly bound queue. Sailors of the eighteenth century wore their hair short, until just about this period when long and tightly bound queues begin to appear alongside should length and shorter hair styles. This is the earliest image I'm aware of that clearly shows a common sailor with a long, tightly bound pigtail or 'rattail.' His neckcloth is a sort of burgundy color, and fringed at the edges.

The jacket itself is blue, but it is impossible to tell if it is single or double breasted. Either way, it has brass buttons on both the front and the slash cuffs. Out of the jacket pocket, or perhaps spilling out through a rear vent, a burgundy handkerchief spotted in yellow hangs loose. His red waistcoat has white metal buttons, and a colorful blue ribbon and fob extends from beneath it.

Red striped trousers lead down to clocked stockings, pointed toe shoes, and yellow metal oval shaped buckles. The straps of his shoes are trained "sailor fashion."

Fortune's Favourites: or Happiness in every Situation, 1786

Fortune's Favourites: or Happiness in every Situation, Robert Dighton, printed by Bowles & Carver, 1786, British Museum.

Dighton's cartoon shows all classes of society smiling and enjoying their day beneath a blindfolded Fortune, with one hand on a wheel (perhaps a spinning wheel?) and the other holding an overflowing cornucopia. A cobbler, butcher, shoeblack, and carpenter join the sailor in representing the lower classes. They are comingled with a decorated peer, a rich miser, and (according to the curators of the British Museum) 'a fat alderman eating from a bowl of soup inscribed "Turtle."'

The image is crowded, so the sailor is obscured by the miser.

Over his loose and flowing locks, our tar wears a cocked hat with the point forward and a large blue cockade on the left side. Around his neck is a red neckcloth, draped over his shirt and jacket. The blue jackets is fitted with open mariner's cuffs with white or silver buttons. Beneath his plain petticoat trousers is a wooden leg.

The Convention, 1790

The Convention, Isaac Cruikshank, published by S.W. Forbes, 1790, British Museum.

This political cartoon references the Nootka Sound Convention of 1790. It was one of three agreements between Spain and Britain to prevent disagreements and incidents in the Pacific Northwest from escalating to war.

Cruikshank does not appear to happy with this first convention. The Don prances away at a dancing step while taunting Jack Tar (who stands in place of Britannia) with the French farewell: 'Adieu.' Jack, meanwhile, can do little more but stare angrily at his opponent and mutter 'You be D--n'd.'

The sailor wear a round hat with a rounded crown and loose brim. His jacket has large buttons, and appears to be single breasted, though I couldn't swear to it. One hand is thrust in the waist pocket of his single breasted waistcoat, which hangs over the petticoat trousers that end just below the knee. In his left hand he holds a stick.

France and England or a prospect of Peace, c.1763

France and England or a prospect of Peace, artist unknown, c.1763, British Museum.

This is one of many political cartoons to address the Treaty of Paris of 1763 which closed out the Seven Years and French and Indian Wars (among others).

A sailor has turned highwayman, and threatens a well dressed man with a pistol. The gentleman seems oddly unperturbed by this turn of events, saying 'This is always The Consequence of peace in England We neglect those in peace that were our Bulwarks in War.' The sailor, despite a gallows well within sight on the hills to the left, is similarly sanguine: 'I may as well Risk hanging fro something as I have being Shott for nothing and I cannot stare.'

Our luckless sailors wears a jacket with at least two vents, and slit pockets at the waist. He wears a wide brimmed round hat with short cylindrical crown. His plain trousers end about mid-calf.

Tavern scene, 1786

A tavern scene, Thomas Rowlandson, 1786, British Museum.

Rowlandson's sketch depicts a raucous tavern. Perhaps this is the same tavern that he would later illustrate being raided by a press gang. Among the revelers is a sailor embracing a woman who reaches for the punch ladle.

He wears a cap or round hat atop his head, a pair of trousers that end above the ankle, and a jacket that ends just below the waist.

Occupied Philadelphia: October 14-15

If you are on this side of the Atlantic, I'd love to see you at the Museum of the American Revolution's new event Occupied Philadelphia on October 14 and 15.

The Museum of the American Revolution is a phenomenal organization. Even as a museum professional who has worked in and visited museums across the United States for well over a decade, I was floored by their interpretation. It's an engaging, thrilling experience.

On October 14 anf 15, living historians will be leading walking tours, street theater, and demonstrations all weekend to commemorate the British occupation of the rebellious American capital in 1777.

I will be there all weekend representing a master's mate of the Vigilant, which had a brief career as a less than reliable sixth rate serving in American waters. Stop by my table to talk about life in the Royal Navy and the history of navigation. I'll have a set of reproduction instruments for latitudinal navigation and ded. reckoning. Come on up and say hello!

Photo by Ron MacArthur, from the Cape Gazette.

The Frenchman in Distress, 1786

The Frenchman in Distress, Robert Dighton, printed by Bowles & Carver, 1786, British Museum.

Beating well dressed and effeminate Frenchmen is a running theme in British cartoons of the late eighteenth century. In this case, a coachman gets his licks in, raising a fist while the Frenchman empties his pockets, spilling his fripperies onto the sidewalk. Numerous onlookers watch the scene, including a sailor and what might be his family.

The large woman stands by the oysters she has for sale, an oyster knife hanging from her waist. to the right stands a well dressed tar.

His round hat is black with an upturned brim, a "buck hat." His shirt is bared between the open lapels of a red waistcoat, over which a short black neckcloth hangs down, tied beneath his collar. A blue jacket with white buttons and a closed mariners cuff hands down to the top of his thighs. White trousers striped with narrow red vertical stripes ends above the ankle. Rectangular buckles keep his shoes fit tight, and he holds a stick in his right hand.