During the late 18th century, early 19th century, trains on gowns were de rigueur. I chose to show the two gowns below, since the styles were popular when Jane Austen was a teenager (first image) and wrote the first editions of Northanger Abbey, Sense and Sensibility, and Pride and Prejudice (second and third images).
Sheer embroidered cotton muslin, lined with pink silk taffeta, 1785-1790. Galliera
Silk Dress, Kyoto Costume Institute, 1795
Robe ayant appartenu, 1797
As Regency styles evolved and the 19th century progressed, trains were worn largely on evening dresses.
1805-1810 French evening dress, V&A museum
I have often wondered how delicate muslin gowns survived the harsh laundering that was required to remove stains made from dusty floors and muddy pathways. Even the grandest ladies wearing the most expensive dresses promenaded on gravel walkways or shopped along city or village streets. How did they manage to keep their hems clean in an era when paved roads and sidewalks were almost impossible to find?
Dirt road, a view near New Cross Deptford in Kent, 1770. artist unknown Yale University, Mellon Collection.
Until macadam roads became widespread, roads across most of Great Britain remained unpaved. Village roads were especially notorious for becoming muddy quagmires during rainy days. The deep ruts in this village scene, illustrated just five years before Jane Austen’s birth, say it all.
Detail of the road in New Cross Deptford
Dresses worn by working class women stopped at or above the ankles, and for good reason! These women wore sturdy leather shoes that could withstand the dirt.
Paul Sandby drawing of two vendors, 18th c.
City streets were barely better than country roads. While sidewalks protected dress hems, roads were still made of dirt. People tossed out garbage from their windows, and horse droppings made crossings all but impassible for pedestrians.
Dirt road, detail of St. George, Bloomsbury
Crossing sweepers were stationed along major intersections, sweeping a clearing for anyone willing to give a tip. Not only did horses pull carriages and wagons, but drovers led animals to market through village and city streets. The stench from their droppings must have been unbelievable.
This enterprising street sweeper places a wheeled plank at strategic points to help pedestrians cross dirty roads. Print by Carle Vernet.
By 1829, machines began to replace manual labor, as this unhappy street sweeper notes in “The Scavenger’s Lamentation.” Observe the piles of horse and animal dung left behind.
Jane Austen mentioned wearing pattens when she lived in Steventon. These devices elevated shoes above the dirt, but by the turn of the 19th century, pattens were no longer considered fashionable and were largely worn by the working classes, such as the midwife below.
Rowlandson. AMidwife Going to a Labour.
early 19th century pattens. Museum of Fine Art, Boston
I always view contemporary images for clues. Diana Sperling created some wonderful watercolours around the topic. In this painting, you can see how the trains of the dresses have somehow been hitched up in the back, especially with the first and third women.
Hazards of walking, by Diana Sperling
After Elizabeth Bennet walks to Netherfield to visit her sick sister, Jane, Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Bingley speak disparagingly about the state of her dress:
“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”
“She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”
“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office.” – Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 8
Bingley’s citified and nouveau riche sisters were horrified at Elizabeth’s lack of decorum. To them, appearances are more important than sisterly devotion. One imagines that they would not have ventured out until the sun had dried the mud and they could be assured of a carriage. From the image below, one can readily see why Elizabeth’s hems were in such sad shape after her long walk in fields made wet by heavy rain.
One wonders how helpful pattens were when dirt roads became quagmires. Although she was young when she painted these watercolours, Diana Sperling demonstrates a decided sense of humor in her paintings.
In Northanger Abbey, Isabella and Catherine became quickly inseparable, even calling each other by their first names in an age when only intimate friends and family could be on such terms.
They called each other by their Christian name, were always arm in arm when they walked, pinned up each other’s train for the dance, and were not to be divided in the set; and if a rainy morning deprived them of other enjoyments, they were still resolute in meeting in defiance of wet and dirt, and shut themselves up, to read novels together.
They pinned up the trains of each others’ evening gowns to prevent tripping, but also staining, I suspect. (It must be noted that guests changed from their street shoes to dancing slippers before entering a ballroom, which probably reduced the amount of dirt trailed inside.) Nothing could stop the girls from seeing each other, not even “dirt” or muddy streets.
There were many ways to protect trains. In this film still, Gwynneth Paltrow’s Emma hitches her train on a loop over her wrist.
Note the train in this image of the 1996 version of Emma
These French images from the late 18th century provide the best evidence in how ladies would protect their delicate dresses out of doors. While we assume that ladies did not expose their ankles to the public (they certainly did not in the Victorian era, but the Regency was a different time), the illustrations point out the practical habit of hitching a train over one’s arm.
This French fashionista with her short, pert hair cut, reveals her roman style slippers as she promenades with her train carried over her arm.
While this 1797 satiric image by Carle Vernet is making fun of fashionistas, one can surmise that the habit of carrying long skirts over the fore arm was widespread.
Wind and open windows swept dirt and dust continually into houses and visitors trod in dirt. No wonder maids needed to sweep floors daily!
Regardless of the efforts to keep streets, sidewalks, and floors clean, one wonders about the condition of the hems on women’s garments. Clothes were expensive before the advent of mass-produced cloth and were carefully recycled, even by the well-off.
Laundresses took an enormous amount of effort to keep clothes clean. One can only assume that the majority of women wore clothes with stained hems, and that only the rich could afford the expense of keeping their clothes looking spotless. Eleanor Tilney wore only white gowns, which told contemporary readers more about her economic status than pages of explanations ever could. In Mansfield Park, Mrs. Norris frowned on maidservants wearing white gowns. These white clothes were not only above their stations, but they would require an enormous amount of time spent on maintenance.
Also on this blog: Trains on Dresses
Jane Austen's World 
Fascinating! Great research and I appreciate the new understanding.
Wonderful piece! I have always been curious about how “fancy” gowns were cleaned and/or washed? They seem so delicate with all the beading, and ribbon and fancy bits. Not to mention if they danced all night, it was surely soaked in sweat.
I’ve always wondered about that! Great article.
Amazing! I’ve always wondered how they kept those hems clean as well!
This was such an interesting read and I appreciate all the pictures you included. They certainly paint a more complete picture of the fashion of the time.
Such an informative post. Thank you!
I always pictured Lizzy, on the walk to Netherfield, holding her dress up out of the mud while the petticoats stayed down, either for modesty or because she didn’t care that much about the state of her petticoats. (Maybe she wore old ones because she knew it would be muddy?) While the Bingley ladies are bad mouthing her, one of them says “the skirt let down to hide them not doing its office” or something like that. I seriously doubt there was truly six inches of mud on them, though! Lol
When I lived in the country I walked through fields wearing blue jeans or long trousers. Although there would be a small amount of dew, tall clumps of grasses would soak the bottom of my pants, leaving 3 – 8 inches of water stain, depending on where I walked. In Jane Austen’s day, “dirt” had a different connotation than it does today. I wonder if it is the same with “mud”?
Thank you for clarifying the issue I always wondered about. Your thorough research helped and I am once more amazed what the readers of Jane Austen´s time understood immediately while we need explanations.
Well-documented and well-written article. Thanks very much for yet more insights into the age. Kathie
Excellently researched as always and a joy to read. I just wish that with the photos, that a back shot might be combined with a front shot-I am always consumed by curiosity to know what the necklines are doing, especially in that delightful silk maroon gown (#2).
Very entertaining. It must have been a constant struggle to keep hems up, away from the street.
Patty, I cannot imagine how women managed to walk with those trains. Country gowns worn during the day were, by necessity, plainer – but, still…
I wonder if the ruffles or trim one sometimes sees around the hem were removable for cleaning or replacing.
Women’s work consisted of mending and sewing, so I would gather that an enterprising lady would remove a soiled damaged lace or trim and replace them. Lace was such an expensive item that when garments were refashioned, these trims were saved to use on other gowns. When hems were quite long, you can see that they were relatively plain. As hems were raised, they became more embellished.
And who can forget Mrs. Elton’s profound views on the undesirability of country walks for ladies…. “In summer there is dust, in winter there is dirt.” Her solution was to ride a donkey, ‘with her caro sposo walking by’. So funny!!
Thank you for such a fascinating post. I had never seen a picture of pattens before this–they look dangerous; I think I might have risked dirty hems.
Forgive me for being indiscreet, there is a typo in this paragraph, to quote “People tossed out garbage from their windows, and horse droppings made crossings all but impassible for pedestrians”. The word should be “impossible”.
Thank you for your kind attention.
I think she was using ‘crossings’ as a noun, and the word for not being able to pass through a crossing would indeed be ‘impassible’. That’s how I read it, anyway. If ‘crossing’ was meant as the verb ‘to cross’, then you’re right. Isn’t English fun?
I, too, had wondered if those long gowns stayed clean at the hems. I wonder now why long skirts lasted for so many centuries given that ever-present nuisance. Surely imaginative fashionistas could have figured out a more convenient show of wealth and status than perpetually dirty hems.
I imagine that the very wealthy wore their gowns only a few times before discarding them. Servants cleaned soiled garments right away and removed stains before they had an opportunity to “set”. Trims and furbelows also disguised spots (see my answer to Kevin Brewer’s question). It amazes me that trains were not added on separately, but that they were cut as an integral part of the gown.
Another great article, Vic. Thanks. Shared.
Is there any evidence they had multiple hems for their gowns? Men had collars and cuffs to button on to a shirt, so perhaps there were changeable hems? Remove them, boil and beat them, replace them? In the tv program on the Netherfield Ball, the participants remarked on the sweat them worked up dancing in the early 19th C style. They also had outside shoes and dancing shoes.
Good question. I am not aware of multiple hems that were exchanged on one dress. However, gowns were recycled and as the Regency period progressed, hems went up. The simple early Regency hems were taken up and festooned with trims and laces, which became more elaborate as time went on. By the 1820’s, skirt bottoms were stiff from all the embellishments, and hems were high enough to show the ankle.
I suppose that petticoats served as an “under” hem. These undergarments were washed more frequently than outer clothing.
I did mention the habit of exchanging outer shoes for dancing slippers. In one famous painting by Rolinda Sharples, one can see a servant helping a guest put on dancing shoes. Click here: https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/clifton-assembly-rooms/
In Duty and Desire, the servants attending the guests after dinner were “satin-clad.” I presume to dispel any noise (and any attention!) from emanating from them.
Thanks for the great post, Vic! Those paintings by Diana Sperling are priceless!
I just finished reading Duty and Desire by Pamela Aidan. In one scene, the dainty ankles of a lady are mentioned by Darcy. I could feel his “oh my” exclamation.
The pattens in the Rowland drawing made me think of skates, until I saw the picture of them. They look uncomfortable and a slight bit dangerous.
I love your blog!
Thank you for your insights and for your compliment.
I always wondered why they didn’t have little buttons to button the train up like bridal gowns today. They would have been so convenient.
Watching the ladies walk around Bath and Steventon during the Jane Austen Festival in the rain and mud, it really hit home just how dirty it was in Jane Austen’s lifetime. It gave me a new appreciation for my jeans which hardly got dirty and muddy at all. I just rolled up the hems and went on my way. My feet got wet in mesh sneakers though. I could have used those pattens. They work well in snow too
A note on the Victorian era: i read a diary of a gentleman traveler and he noted the difference between a real lady and a prostitute. The real ladies didn’t lift their hems up past their ankles as shown in the prints above. They let their skirts trail in the dust. The other kind of lady lifted the skirts up to a show a bit of ankle.
Thank you for this insight. The French pictures are satiric and the hems are carried far above what is thought respectable, although the Regency era was vastly different from the Victorian age. I think that Diana Sperling’s paintings are more on point.
This was a great article, Vic. I have always wondered how women dealt with the muck and mess, considering the delicate fabrics and flimsy shoes. It truly must have been a challenge.
19th Century American Pioneers had a trick for hems. When they made a skirt for a dress/frock/gown, they stitched it on with a bit of an “inside peplum” of several inches at the waistline. Then, when the hem became frayed or worn out, they’d unstitch the skirt and turn it upside down. The old, worn hem became the inside peplum, and the skirt had a brand new, unspoiled hem.
Hemline ruffles were also another good way of hiding worn hems. The inside peplum trick also worked for ruffles.
“Mend it up, wear it out.
Make it do, or do without.”
Thank you for a very insightful article. I made a white voile Regency gown a few years ago and have worn it for several events — dances, picnics, docenting — and while I have hand-washed it many times, the inside of the hem is slowly becoming grayer and grayer. However, now I know that it’s just becoming more historically accurate.:)
Thanks for this informative article. I’ve often wondered what pattens look like. I have seen a pair by the bed in Jane Austen’s house in Chawton but they were behind glass and not very easy to see. It must have been very strange for ladies to teeter around on these elevated metal frames.
Lovely post, I had not given it a great deal of thought about trailing dirt inside and am obsessive when it comes to keeping my house clean I do not know how I would have survived. Probably by never going anywhere and not admitting anyone into my house. There is a scene in North and South the mini series when a worker turns up and his boots are covered, the maid makes him take his shoes off and he has to be presented in socks so funny.
Regency ladies (and their maids) used a number of “dry laundering” powders. Used since medieval times in Britain, and far longer in China, these concoctions cleaned everything from wool to silk to delicate muslins. I’ve seen a set of brushes in the V&A used specifically for different fabrics & weaves and for different types of stains, e.g. grease or food stains vs. mud or soot.
And yes, some of the powders did serve to minimize the appearance of stains.
Fascinating. Given the frequency with which my floors need sweeping with closed windows, sidewalks, paved streets, and driving most places, I’ve no doubt that, as you say, “Wind and open windows swept dirt and dust continually into houses and visitors trod in dirt. No wonder maids needed to sweep floors daily!” Even if one stayed indoors all day, the hem would be dingy. Thanks for the insightful history into a facet of Regency life I would have overlooked otherwise.