Getting Dressed: Victorian Maid, Christmas (1853)

A washable cotton chemise was worn next to the skin. It had short sleeves and helped protect the outer garments from perspiration. Warm wool stockings were vital in winter. Garter ribbons held them in place beneath the knee, and the stockings were often folded down to make them extra secure when active or working. Open leg drawers consisted of two separate legs attached to a waistband. In order to use the lavatory, petticoats would be gathered up and the drawers drawn out of the way. Sturdy, flat-heeled, leather ankle boots were perfect for hardworking women. The front fastening busk was invented in 1848 and proved so successful that after 1850, virtually all corsets were made with it. Servant or lady could now dress unaided. The metal eyelets through which the lacing at the back was threaded allowed the wearer to pull the lacing tight, creating the perfect fit. Many petticoats were worn to create the fashionable silhouette, sometimes up to six, far too many for a maid to afford. But two petticoats with tucks at the hem created a pretty form and enough layers for colder weather. Petticoats could be made from cotton, linen, or wool and would be encouraged to sit just below the waist. A simple front fastening gown of subdued color and cotton or wool fabric was practical and tidy attire for a maid. The bodice, and often sleeves too, were lined with cotton. To keep the waist small and trim, the bulk of fabric from the skirts was pleated or cartridge pleated and then sewn onto the completed bodice. Tucks at the hem preserved fabric within the garment for later alterations in length or style. A pocket is concealed within the folds of the skirt. A white cotton apron and cap was worn for cooking and a more serviceable apron worn for messier work. All varieties of hand-knitted gloves and mitts were worn, but fingerless ones were practical for working women. A stout woolen shawl was as much protection as a maid servant could afford, and a simple bonnet, which had to serve her all seasons, would cover her hair. On December 27, 1853, a queue of 2,000 working people office clerks, shop girls, factory workers, maid servants, and laborers gathered in the falling snow outside Birmingham Town Hall. The sixpence entrance was manageable by most, but a few had had to make sacrifices to spare the pennies. It was worth it though. Giving one of his first public performances of A Christmas Carol was Charles Dickens. It was Dickens who had insisted that the evening be prized at a rate affordable by working people and that the event should be Marley was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and Scrooge's name was good upon change for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doornail. Mind, I don't mean to say that I know of my own knowledge what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined to myself to regard a coffin nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade, but the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile, and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat emphatically that Marley was as dead as a doornail. The crowd in Birmingham Town Hall that night was rapturous. Without a single prop or bit of costume, Dickens peopled his stage with a throng of characters, like an entire theater company under one hat. The arrival of Scrooge created a sensation. Dickens became an old man with a shrewd, grating voice, whose face was drawn into his collar like an aging turtle. His audience fell into a kind of trance, as a universal feeling of joy seemed to invade the whole assembly. Running to the window, he opened it and put out his head. No fog, no mist, clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold, cold, piping for the blunt and danced, golden sunlight, heavenly sky, sweet, fresh air, merry bells, oh, glorious, glorious. What's today? cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in his Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about. Hey, return the boy, with all his might and wonder. What's today, my fine fellow? said Scrooge. Today, replied the boy. Why, Christmas Day. It's Christmas Day, said Scrooge to himself. I haven't missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night. Of course they have, of course they have. Hello, my fine fellow. Hello, said the boy. Do you know the poulterers in the next street but one at the corner? Scrooge inquired. I should hope I did, replied the lad. An intelligent boy, said Scrooge, a remarkable boy. Do you know whether they'd sold the prized turkey that was hanging up there? Not the little prized turkey, the big one. What, the one as big as me, returned the boy. What a delightful boy, said Scrooge. It's a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck. It's hanging there now, replied the boy. Is it? said Scrooge. Go and buy it. exclaimed the boy. No, no, said Scrooge. I am in earnest. Go and buy it and tell them to bring it here that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come back with the man and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you half a crown. The boy was off like a shot. I'll send it to Bob Cratchit, whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands and splitting with a laugh. He shan't know who's sent it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim.