Yankee Doodle went to town
A-riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his cap
And called it macaroni.
Macaroni Craze
During the third quarter of the eighteenth century, Londoners saw the bizarre spectacle of the so-called “macaroni craze.” Young aristocratic men who had returned home from their educational Grand Tour through Continental Europe to Italy, displayed a liking for pasta.
They were named macaroni-eaters or simply “macaronies.” Horace Walpole (1717-1797) made the earliest known reference to a “Macaroni Club” in a letter dated February 6, 1764. There is no factual evidence that such a club ever existed, but this fictional construction became cemented in the public imagination during the 1770s.
Running between October 1772 and October 1774, The Macaroni and Theatrical Magazine, or, Monthly Register of the Fashions and Diversions of the Times, brought together the domains of theatre and fashion.
Each issue featured a “macaroni print,” depicting a nameless male who could easily be unmasked from clues provided. Stagey mannerisms, fancy clothes, fine fabrics, elegant shoes, a walking stick, and ceremonial sword codified the type. A powdered wig epitomized his extravagant persona.
For most of the eighteenth century, artifice was part of cultured interaction. Public life was theatrical and the wig represented a man’s social status. Subverting a traditional understanding of masculinity, the macaroni caused gender confusion.
Critics characterized him as a “hermaphrodite” or an “amphibious creature,” being sexually indeterminate. His presence provoked debate. How could a robust society promote refinement without becoming effeminate?
Manhood signified moderation: polished but sober, never ostentatious. The Macaroni and Theatrical Magazine exposed the macaroni as a fraud, claiming that Britons hated the “foppery of the present degenerate times.”
The attraction of foreign fashions had caused a loss of virility. The battle for masculinity therefore was rooted in patriotism. At the same time, the appearance of the macaroni boosted the sales of London’s print sellers.
Caricature was an Italian import too. So-called “macaroni prints” were produced and sold by Matthew and Mary Darly from their shop at the Strand. They published six sets of satirical images between 1771 and 1773, each batch holding twenty-four portraits. Their work inspired a completely new genre of social satire.
Despite his perceived foreign falseness, the macaroni’s image changed over time. By the mid-1770s, prints began to reflect a more sympathetic approach. Eccentricity was praised as quintessentially British.
The February 1773 issue of the Macaroni and Theatrical Magazine put this claim in the following terms: “One Frenchman alone is sufficient to represent fifty Frenchmen; but forty-nine Englishmen are insufficient to represent fifty of their own countrymen.”
Being “different” as a distinctive national trait of identity had begun to appear in the late seventeenth century. While aspects of the macaroni were antithetical to an ideal of plain masculinity, the stress on uniqueness reinforced British virtues.
Therein lies the paradox of the macaroni vogue: what had been condemned as foreign and false, became admired for being unconventional. There was respect behind ridicule.
Yankee & Doodle
Across the Hudson River from Albany, New York, was the location of the Van Rensselaer fortified manor, known as Fort Crailo. The estate was named after the family property at Huizen in the province of North Holland (Crailose Bos is now a local nature reserve). A compound word derived from Middle Dutch, it means “crow’s wood” (craie = crow; lo = wood or forest).
The mansion was built in 1707 for Hendrick Van Rensselaer (1667-1740), grandson of the First Patroon. After his death in 1740, his eldest son Johannes added a wing to the house in Georgian style. Today, it houses a museum of Colonial Dutch culture in the Hudson River Valley.
Lasting from 1754 to 1763, colonists joined British troops in the French and Indian War (1754-1763). Attached to General James Abercrombie’s staff, physician Richard Shuckburgh was a guest at Fort Crailo in 1755/6.
According to legend, he penned the lyrics of “Yankee Doodle” during his stay there after seeing the sloppy appearance of Connecticut’s colonial troops under command of Colonel Thomas Fitch (son of the Connecticut Governor). The latter’s sister had expressed concern that soldiers wore rustic clothing, not a uniform; she presented them with chicken feathers as a plume in their cap to create a sense of camaraderie.
Historians seem to accept that the opening verse of “Yankee Doodle” was meant to mock the ragtag volunteer militia (an early diss track). The punchline, they argue, lies in the word “macaroni.” The poet used it to poke fun at the colonists’ farcical attempt to appear both as professional soldiers and fashionable gentlemen.
This is a case of over-interpretation. The earliest documented use of the word “macaroni” in American-English is associated with Thomas Jefferson. Whilst serving as US Minister to France from 1785 to 1789, he developed a passion for Mediterranean cuisine.
In 1787 he wrote a treatise on the delight of Neapolitan pasta and produced a sketch of a “maccaroni” (or pasta) machine, a version of which he later shipped back to the kitchens at Monticello. The word did not appear in American cookbooks until the 1820s, becoming a generic term for all pasta shapes after mass Italian immigration into the United States. It was never part of fashion slang.
David Garrick’s two-act satirical comedy The Male Coquette (first performed in London in 1757) featured an effete character named Marchese di Macaroni. The reference was well-understood in theatrical circles at the time. As Richard Shuckburgh had visited London in 1755, he must have seen early manifestations of the macaroni vogue there and then.
It is unlikely that many, if any, serving British soldiers would have been aware of the word’s double meaning. The author used it as an “insider” joke which he shared with the Army’s cultured elite. Americans did not know the word macaroni at all. The idea they took collective offense to the poetic application of a “mystery” term is implausible.
The same applies to the word “dandy.” Also stemming from the mid-eighteenth century, it had a loaded connotation in England. A dandy was a man who placed high value upon physical appearance, refined language, and cultivated wit. In most cases of a middle-class background, he strove to copy an aristocratic lifestyle.
Americans were not familiar with the word nor with the phenomenon of dandyism (the trend started much later when the Manhattan “dude” made his appearance in the 1880s). The word’s meaning would have puzzled most, but the terms “Yankee” and “Doodle” did stir angry feelings.
Jan Kaas & Jan Doedel
There are Dutch links to both the tune and text of the song. As it is the case for most folk ditties, the melodic origins of “Yankee Doodle” are hard to figure out. The lively tune was known at an early date throughout Western Europe and remained popular.
Musical historians trace it back to a fifteenth-century Middle Dutch harvest song. Early colonial settlers in New Netherland sang such nostalgic songs, often with playful refrains that featured nonsense syllables such as diddel and doedel (pronounced in the same manner as doodle).
By the 1750s, the word “Yankee” was a British slur, implying that New Englanders were bumpkins and peasants. The word was the equivalent of calling someone a “yokel.”
British General James Wolfe is believed to have produced the first written record of the word Yankee in 1758. In a private letter, he used the derogatory term in reference to poorly trained New England soldiers under his command.
There are varying interpretations about its roots, but there is a consensus that the term reflects a lasting, uneasy relationship between New Netherland and New England.
When Puritans crossed the Atlantic, they brought dairy farming to the colonies. Making Cheshire and Cheddar-style cheeses began in Massachusetts Bay Colony in the late 1620s. For some considerable time, its production was a New England monopoly.
With an increasing number of arrivals, English colonists began to press into New Netherland territory from Connecticut. Locals referred to the intruders as Yankees, a disparaging name derived from the Dutch “Jan Kaas” (John Cheese).
The Dutch themselves had a history of cheese making and “Jan Kaas” was originally a Flemish nickname for their northern neighbors. Dutch and Flemish residents of New Amsterdam referred to English colonials in Connecticut as “damn Yankees.” Why were the terms Yankee and doodle combined?
The Dutch word for bagpipe is doedelzak which, at one time, was a popular instrument in the Low Countries associated with rural festivities. It often appears in sixteenth and seventeenth century painting.
Artists such as Peter Bruegel the Elder or Abraham Teniers used the instrument in scenes of revelry at peasant fairs or weddings as a metaphor for human folly and daftness. There was a bawdy element as well. As “doedel” was a euphemism for penis, the bagpipe served as a symbol for erotic lust or male genitalia.
There is a persistent Dutch-Flemish tradition of personifying a profession or public attitude by a generic nickname: Jan Soldaat (John Soldier), Jan Matroos (John Seaman), Jan Kordaat, (John Fearless), Jan Modaal (John Average), Jan Salie (John Sage, an unenterprising character), Jan Jurk (John Frock, a simple-minded character), Jan Lul (John Prick, an ineffectual person), Jan met de Pet (John with Cap, an ordinary person), and others.
Jan Doedel (John Doodle) stands for an incompetent fool, a simpleton. The expression “Yankee Doodle” was a Dutch-inspired double insult aimed at a resident of rural New England. It fixed the phrase in popular speech, reinforcing its association with mental simplicity.
Badge of Honor
By 1770 the relationship between King George III’s government and the American colonies was deteriorating. Many settlers resisted added taxes to pay for the French and Indian War effort. Tensions rose and rebellion was imminent.
The feud came to a head in April 1775 when some seven hundred British soldiers marched out of Boston on a mission to snatch weapons stashed away in the countryside by minutemen.
Their marching band troubled locals by playing “Yankee Doodle” as they passed through rural roads. The music was loud and offensive. Fifers and drummers were prime communicators in battle. They controlled troop movements with piercing tunes and drumrolls that beat the noise of gunfire.
A confrontation took place at Lexington where defiant members of the colonial militia counter-attacked British troops. Legend has it that they returned the musical insult by adopting the upbeat marching tune at the sight of retreating Redcoats.
The Revolution had begun; “Yankee Doodle” took hold as an anthem of defiance and a badge of honor. Rebels taunted British troops by adding satirical verses that praised George Washington and other commanders.
The last major battle of the Revolutionary War took placed in 1781 at Yorktown, Virginia. Aided by French allies, the Continental Army outfought British troops in a three-week siege. It was said that Marquis de Lafayette ordered the Continental Fife & Drum Corps to play “Yankee Doodle” at the British surrender.
The song became a symbol of the American drive for independence. After several defeats, British Commander-in-Chief Thomas Gage reportedly professed: “I hope that I shall never hear that tune again!” In 1783, the Treaty of Paris ended hostilities, but the song’s legacy endured long after.
During the Civil War, Confederate and United States soldiers sang their own variations to jeer at one another. Southerners used the word Yankee to denounce Northerners. The tune was performed by marching bands during the War of 1812, whilst new satirical lyrics were added. During the World Wars, “Yankee Doodle” became a symbol of patriotism.
Having entered the First World War, several variations of the song were released by Tin Pan Alley producers to encourage the troops and boost morale.
From August 1914 to August 1919, the Library of Congress produced its annual Catalogue of Copyright Entries. Nearly 112,000 songs were filed during that time, about 35,600 of which devoted to patriotism and the war effort.
At least 7,300 titles are known to have been printed. Written by Will Johnstone and Bruce Brady, “When Yankee Doodle Goes to France” (1917) was one of those.
By the Second World War, the song was utilized for cinematic propaganda. The 1942 award-winning film Yankee Doodle Dandy, starring James Cagney, was a full-on wartime musical.
In an Act of the Legislature of 1978, Connecticut adopted “Yankee Doodle” as its official state song. Dutch Jan Doedel had gone a long way.
Read more about New York’s Music History.
Illustrations, from above: Archibald M. Willard’s “The Spirit of ‘76,” also known as “Yankee Doodle,” ca. 1875 (U.S. State Department); Philip Dawe, “The Macaroni. A real Character at the late Masquerade,” (mezzotint), 1773; Thomas Jefferson’s ‘Maccaroni’ machine sketch with instructions for making pasta, 1787; Bruegel the Elder’s “Peasant Dance,” ca. 1567 (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna); and “When Yankee Doodle Goes to France” (1917). Words by Will B. Johnstone; music by Bruce F. Bundy (New York, M. Witmark & Sons, 1917).
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