Forget flowers: lovers in 18th- and 19th-century Ireland exchanged hair
In 18th- and 19th-century Ireland, it was common for courting couples to exchange gifts to mark their developing relationships. Many of these items are familiar gifts today: books, cards, items of clothing, jewellery and sweet treats. Others, however, are less familiar. In fact, some of the gifts exchanged by couples in the past might give many today the dreaded ick – especially those items of the hairier variety.
While you might be familiar with the tradition of mourning hairwork jewellery that was made and worn to remember deceased loved ones in the Victorian era, hairy tokens were traditionally a gift exchanged between couples in love. In my new book, Pious and Promiscuous: Life, Love and Family in Presbyterian Ulster, I explore the tradition of gift-giving among courting couples in Ulster – from hairy tokens to food and clothing. The book reveals for the first time the personal stories that shaped the rituals of Presbyterian family life in 18th- and 19th-century Ulster.
Gift-givers thought deeply about what to gift that special someone. Items exchanged in courtship were carefully chosen because different gifts had different meanings. Whereas shirts were understood to symbolise friendship, items like gloves – which covered the hands and fingers – were associated with marriage.
Those on the receiving end also had to consider whether or not to accept these tokens. Accepting a gift from a would-be suitor indicated that the receiver shared their romantic interest. Refusing a gift communicated the opposite. The tradition of gift-giving could also be used to break off relationships. When a relationship failed, people were expected to return any gifts that they had received.
The most special token that a person could gift was their hair. As a physical piece of a person that would outlast their human life, a lock of hair symbolised immortal love. Locks of hair were generally gifted by women to men and sometimes at the request of their male suitors.
Men might write to their beloveds and request that they enclose a lock of hair in their next letter as a token with which to remember them. Locks of hair could be tied into neat plaits and fashioned with a ribbon, enabling the lock to keep its shape. Hair could also be pressed into jewellery or placed in the back of miniatures.
The recipients of these hairy tokens would engage with them both physically and sensorially. Locks of hair could be rubbed, stroked, sniffed and gazed upon as the recipient thought about the person who had sent it. Given their size, these little hairy tokens could also be secreted inside of clothes and worn next to the heart, or placed under a pillow and slept upon, enabling the recipient to dream of its hairy bestower.
A hairy fetish
Some people appear to have had a real appetite, perhaps even a fetish, for hairy gifts and tokens. Robert James Tennent (1803–80), a middle-class man who came of age in 19th-century Belfast, is one such example. Catalogued among his papers at the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland, Belfast, is an extraordinary archive of hairy treasures, each seemingly representing a woman with whom he had some sort of romantic connection.
What makes Tennent’s collection so intriguing is its size. It contains 14 locks of hair, each wrapped individually in a small handmade envelope. At one time the collection may have been even larger. Among the items is an envelope, now empty, bearing the label “Hair”, which possibly held a lock of hair that has since been lost.
The hair itself varies dramatically in colour, condition and care: wisps of fine blonde hair; neatly tied plaits of brown hair, fashioned with pink string; and unshapen masses of dark hair streaked with grey. The collection also contains a broken ring.
In 2022, I published a paper on Tennent’s hairy treasures in which I theorised that he kept and curated the collection as a trophy cabinet of his past romantic (and sexual) adventures. I argued that the collection served the purpose of a handmade and homemade pornographic archive that Tennent could revisit to transport himself back to pleasured memories and experiences.
Evidence for this view is inscribed in the collection itself. Twelve of the locks are labelled, telling us the name of the woman to whom the hair belonged. We can identify ten women in total. Eleven of the locks are also dated, recording the day, month and year that they were received by Tennent. The collection was assembled between 1818 and 1827, when Tennent was between 15 and 24 years of age.
Tennent’s archiving efforts betray his philandering lifestyle when a younger, unmarried man. There is a considerable overlap in the dates that the different locks of hair were collected. In fact, at least two locks of hair were received into his collection at the same time that Tennent was courting his future wife, Eliza McCracken. The pair were involved in a rather bumpy courtship from 1826, eventually marrying in 1830.
Whereas item nine in the collection labelled “Hair of Lucretia Belfast” is dated December 13 1826, item 15, belonging to Ellen Lepper, is dated June 26 1827. A lock of McCracken’s hair is also included in Tennent’s collection; a partly unrolled plait of brown hair bears the label: “Eliza, Where is the Bosom friend dearer than all.”
That Tennent returned to these tokens to revisit his bachelorhood is suggested by the physical state of some of the items too. A lock of hair attributed to Miss Catharine Louise Lawless (dated November 10/11 1820), may have once been tied into a neat little plait. It is likely that the plait has come undone overtime due to excessive touch.
So, if you find yourself stumped, browsing the shelves this Valentine’s Day for the perfect gift for your other half, perhaps the answer lies atop of your head. Hairy tokens might not suit everyone’s taste today, but they remind us that love and how we express it has always been intensely personal.
From locks of hair twisted into plaits and encased in jewellery to chocolate hearts and handwritten love notes, the tokens we give carry meaning and memory. Love and affection, then as now, is an expression of our intimate sides and can occasionally be a little hairy.
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Leanne Calvert does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.