Ancestors At Work
Were any of your relations involved in the hat trade?
By the time that the Worshipful Company of Feltmakers (which included hatters) in London was granted its Charter of Incorporation in 1604, Great Britain’s beaver population had been hunted to extinction. Beaver fur, especially the back, was prized for hardwearing hats, so quality hatting was largely confined to ports where the fur was imported, such as Bristol, Exeter, Liverpool and of course the capital.
By 1750 the worldwide supply of beaver was virtually exhausted, so hatters resorted to rabbit and hare fur. Cheaper hats were produced from wool (occasionally rat!).
Until the factory system was established in the early 19th century, hatters usually worked in small, two-storey workshops. These could be found in places like Stockport in Cheshire and Denton in Tameside, Greater Manchester, into the 1840s.
In these ‘bow garrets’, fur or wool was laid evenly on a slotted wooden bench then cleaned with a ‘hatter’s bow’ made of ash. About six feet long, the bow had a catgut string that vibrated when plucked.
The vibrations through and above the fur or wool caused it to fly, while dirt and filth fell through the slits below. Imagine the lung congestion! Clean fur or wool settled on the bench as a film several inches thick, and was formed into a triangular shape called a ‘bat’ or ‘batt’ then squeezed with a wicker press (the ‘gathering basket’). Two bats placed on top of each other formed a cone-shaped hood. After several hoods were produced, they were taken to the ‘planking kettle’, a huge basin where several men felted them.
In later factories, a machine operated by a fur blower replaced this process. A current of air lifted blended fur and/or wool to extract coarse hair and pelt, in the same way as the hatter’s bow. Heavier hair and detritus fell through a mesh while highquality fur left the machine and was processed into hats.
Hazardous To Health
The ‘plankers’ turned the loose fur/wool hoods into felt. Wearing leather hand-guards and using a planking pin, several men worked round the planking kettle rolling and beating each hood until it shrank and thickened to the required size. The kettle contained a mixture of hot water, oatmeal, beer and highly toxic mercury nitrate. Unfortunately the leather guards that the plankers wore couldn’t completely prevent skin irritation or soft, deformed hands, and they were also forced to inhale the dangerous fumes. This and contact with the mercury-infused hoods resulted in mercury poisoning, which caused tremors, paralysis, memory loss, hallucinations, insanity – and death. The mental state of Lewis Carroll’s Mad Hatter in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) has a basis in fact. Block-making was an important auxiliary trade. Once the hoods had shrunk to the correct size (about 10 inches deep by 15 inches wide), workers known as ‘blockers’ transferred each of them to a wooden block that determined the size and shape of the finished hat. Each style required a different block and, for more elaborate designs, a block might have five different components for easy dismantling without ruining a finished hat. In factories, each dyed/proofed hood was stretched by machine, steamed then placed on its block to cool. There were other processes in hat-making. Job titles found in censuses include ‘finisher’ and ‘trimmer’. Finishing meant neatening a hat with brushes, cloths, irons and so on, and shaping the brim and crown. ‘Trimmers’, mainly women who were paid less than men, sewed in linings, the manufacturer’s name and hat size, sweat-cloths, and bands or bows before sending the hat to the packing department. From here, hats were dispatched to local shops and further afield – often a global market.
Apprentice Hatters
Training was by apprenticeship, with youths taken on when they were around 13 or 14 years old. Masters often trained more than one apprentice at a time. During the 1820s and 1830s, work for journeymen was hard to find, leading to a practice exclusive to the trade: being ‘on turn’, when hatters walked to a workshop and were taken on by a master for a week. If a journeyman couldn’t find employment, he moved elsewhere for bed and board supported by fellow tradesmen.
The majority of hatters belonged to a trade union, and by the 1870s there were plenty to choose from including the Amalgamated Felt Hatters’ and Trimmers’ Union, the
Felt Hatters’ Association, and the Amalgamated Society of Journeymen Felt Hatters and Allied Workers (ASJFH).
Members would down tools
The mental state of Lewis Carroll’s Mad Hatter has a basis in fact
not just to fight for improved conditions in their own factory, but to support hatters elsewhere. Major catalysts were pay, apprenticeship numbers, working hours, and companies employing non-union workers. In 1907, more than 2,000 members of Denton’s ASJFH went on strike for five weeks against untrained youths operating dangerous machines, and the regulation of apprentices was improved.
Felt hats were premium products; tradesmen generally wore wool caps. An 1834 advert in the Globe for “ventilating beaver hats” weighing less than four ounces that would “never injure by wet or lose their colour” states a price of 21s or 26s – more than many tradesmen earned in a week. In 1806, according to The Book of Trades, good hatters earned two guineas (£2 2s) a week – although this figure could be an exaggeration, because it is a careers manual.
A Stylish Threat
By the late 1830s, felt hatters faced a new menace: the top hat. Allegedly introduced into England in 1797 by haberdasher John Hetherington, the ‘topper’ was initially met with considerable derision but became ubiquitous. By the 1840s, felt hatters were in despair – top hats were manufactured from cheesecloth, linen and flannel varnished with shellac. The base was baked around a wooden hat block, covered in black silk (invariably imported from France) and embellished with a cloth or silkribbed hat-band. Only a master cut the silk. The top hat’s height ranged from six to 12 inches – Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s beloved ‘stovepipe’.
Even the leading manufacturer Christy’s smelled defeat, and started making top hats in its Stockport factory in 1849. Fortunately, the same decade saw the felt ‘wide-awake’ hat introduced to instant popularity. The name was a pun: the hat had no nap (raised fibre on a fabric).
Meanwhile, Vero & Everitt’s factory in Atherstone, Warwickshire, churned out ‘billycocks’. Similar to bowler hats, these were made from wool with a round crown and curling brim – another rival for the pervasive topper.
Traditional hats have largely fallen out of favour, not least because of heating in cars and the rise in informal fashions, but those that are produced still require some crafting by hand.
ADÈLE EMM
is the author of Tracing Your Trade and Craftsman Ancestors (Pen & Sword, 2015): adeleemm.com