I stumbled across a magnificent illustrated manuscript from around the year 1500. It’s exciting because it shows men in their underwear. Wait, that might have sounded a little wrong.What I mean by “exciting” is that it’s hard to find pictures of underwear from the Renaissance period.
The illuminated manuscript was illustrated by the artist Jean Poyer. It’s called The Hours of Henry VIII because King Henry of England may or may not have once owned it. (You can find the full version here, at the Morgan Library.)
But back to the underwear. First of all, women didn’t wear any. They wore a chemise under their dresses and stays, but no drawers. You can see their chemises in the picture–their white sleeves and necklines are their chemises, worn under a bodice and skirt. Men wore chemises, too, and these often doubled as underwear insofar as the man might hike it up and through his legs. But men also sometimes wore braies, a kind of early boxer-type drawers. Here’s Folio IV, “The Reaping.” From a distance It’s hard to tell if these field workers are wearing bunched-up chemises or braies.
I think they might be chemises:
What do you think?
Hours of Henry VIII, in Latin, Illuminated by Jean Poyer France, Tours, ca. 1500 The Pierpont Morgan Library, Gift of the Heineman Foundation, 1977
Update: Today is election day, and although most people are focusing more on the Presidential election next year, there are many important state and local decisions to be made. In honor of Election Day I am re-posting this blog about the death of Edgar Allan Poe that I wrote a couple of years ago.
On the eve of the election I am sure you’re as weary as I am of voter intimidation stories, suspiciously long early voting waiting lines, and Super-PAC-funded negative advertising. But nineteenth century political campaigns make these things look tame by comparison. Today’s blog is about certain 19th century election practices, and how they might relate to the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of the author Edgar Allan Poe.
When I was a teenager I went through a major Poe phase, but it wasn’t until recently that I learned that the cause of his death, in 1849, was almost as mysterious and eerie as some of his stories. The three prevailing theories to explain the cause of his death are alcohol, rabies, and cooping. I’ll explain.
Here’s what we know: Poe struggled with alcohol for much of his adult life, and also with money problems. At the end of June, 1849, he began a lecture tour to raise money for a new magazine. He traveled to Philadelphia, Richmond, and Norfolk, Virginia. On September 27th, he took a boat from Richmond to Baltimore, but his subsequent whereabouts over the next few days are shrouded in mystery. He resurfaced on October 3rd, when a man named Joseph Walker discovered him outside a tavern and sent a note to Doctor J.E. Snodgrass, reporting that a gentleman had been found “rather the worse for wear,” in evident distress. Poe was delirious, and presumed to be in a drunken state, and sent on to Washington College Hospital.
Over the next four days, he lapsed in and out of consciousness and delirium, incoherent and unable to explain what had happened to him. He died four days later. He was forty years old.
So one explanation, the prevailing one for many decades, is that he was intoxicated and died of some sort of alcohol poisoning, But where that doesn’t really hold up is that he remained in the state of hallucinatory incoherence for four days, and refused offers of alcohol in the hospital (yeah, that’s about the best thing hospitals had to offer to sick people back then). One reason to explain the extended delirium is that he might have ingested a combination of alcohol and laudanum (he’d almost died of that combination a year before, whether from accidental overdose or a suicide attempt).
The second explanation comes from a paper published in 1996, by Dr. Michael Benitez, a cardiologist at University of Maryland Medical center. He suggested rabies may have killed Poe. Symptoms of rabies can take up to a year to appear, but once they do, the patient dies within a few days. Benitez cited as support for the rabies theory the fact that Poe refused water in the hospital. Hydrophobia (fear of water) is a symptom of rabies. But other sources claim Poe did drink half a glass of water, so without evidence of hydrophobia, the rabies theory is pretty slim. Others who subscribe to the disease explanation say that Poe might have been ill from cholera or tuberculosis or epilepsy.
And finally, there’s the cooping theory. I had to research this term. Cooping was a tactic used by crooked officials to sway voting, and was especially notorious in Baltimore during the 1840s and 50s (smack-dab during the time of Poe’s death). Political thugs not only bribed judges and stole ballots to get their candidates elected. They also resorted to kidnapping, beating, and murder. “Coopers” were known to have kidnapped innocent bystanders (always white males—the only ones who could vote), and hold them in a room (or “a coop,”) where they were often drugged, plied with liquor, or physically beaten, and then forced to go from polling place to polling place, voting over and over again for a particular candidate. Often their clothes were changed to disguise them from being recognized at the polls.
I found several accounts in newspapers from 1849 and 1850 bemoaning the practice of cooping. Here’s just one, from the State Gazette (Trenton, October 14 1850):The day Poe was found happened to be election day, and the tavern outside of which Poe was found was also a voting place. And according to some accounts, when Poe was found he was wearing someone else’s clothing. Could he have been seized by a gang, plied with liquor, made to vote over and over again, and then turned out into the street?
It’s a mystery.
Additional sources from the Poe Museum website: http://www.poemuseum.org/life.php
And from the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore website:http://www.eapoe.org
Need some new ideas for dinner? I am here to share recipes from an eighteenth century book that was popular in colonial America. Published in 1737 by William Kendrick, it’s called The Whole Duty of Woman, or, An Infallible Guide to the Fair Sex. (Could there be a more off-putting title?) I suspect that the recipes in this volume may have been what we might today call “aspirational,” like the ones you see in modern-day cookbooks that have been written by chefs who have platoons of sous chefs at their disposal. For instance, many of these require multiple pots and pans, and the vast majority of colonial Americans were lucky if they had one pot or pan. Another thing that jumps out: early Americans weren’t big on vegetables. Have a look. (With apologies to my vegetarian friends.)
Black Puddings
Put in a Stew-pan some Hog’s Blood, a little Milk, and a Ladle full of fat Broth; then cut a sufficient Quantity of thin Slices of Hog’s Fat, with some Parsley, Cives, and Sweet Herbs cut small; put the whole into your Stew-pan, season it with Salt, Pepper, Spice, and Onions done in hot Ashes, and cut small, mix this with your Blood, then make your Puddings as big as you please. Your Guts being well cleansed, scraped and scalded, blanch them in hot Water, and prick them with a Pin, and if you see the Fat come out, they are blanched enough, then take them out of the Water, broil them, and serve them up hot.
A Pig in Jelly
Cut it in Quarters and lay it in your Stew-pan; To one Calf’s Foot and the Pig’s Feet, put in a Pint of Rhenish Wine, the Juice of four Lemons, and one Quart of Water; season with Nutmeg and Salt; stove it gently two Hours, let it stand ‘till cold, and send it up in its Jelly.
To Souce a Pig
Cut off the Head of a fair large Pig, then slit him through the Midst [ed note: disconcerting pronoun use],then take out his Bones, then lay him in warm Water one Night, then collar him up like Brawn, then boil him tender in fair Water, and when he is boiled, put him in an Earthen Pot or Pan, in Water and Salt, for that will make him white, and season the Flesh for you must not put Salt in the boiling, for that will make it black [ed. note: um, what?], then take a Quart of the same Broth, and a Quart of White Wine, boil them together to make some Souce for it, put into it two or three Bay Leaves, when it is cold uncloath the Pig, and put it into the same Souce, and it will continue a Quarter of a Year [ed note: a Quarter of a Year. That’s what it says.]. It is a necessary Dish in any Gentleman’s House; when you serve it in, serve it with green Fennel, as you do Sturgeon with Vinegar in Saucers.
Ducks Tongues
Get as many Ducks, or Geese Tongues as you can; fifty Tongues will fill up a small Dish. Blanch them, put them in a Stew-pan over some Slices of Bacon, with Onions cut in Slices, and some Sprigs of Sweet Basil; season it with Salt, Pepper, and some Slices of Bacon, moisten it with a Spoonful of Broth, let it stew together. The Tongues being done, drain them, and put them, in some Essence of Ham, or an Italian Sauce, put them, for a Minute, over the Fire to take a Relish. Being ready to serve, let your Tongues be relishing, add the Juice of a Lemon; serve them up hot for a dainty Dish. At another Time [because your family will be clamoring to have you make this again], you may garnish them with Mushrooms, Truffles, Cocks Kidneys and Cocks Combs.
A Calf’s Head Pie
Boil your Calf’s Head, ‘till you can take out all the bones, slice into thin Slices and lay it in the Pie, with the Ingredients for savoury Pies. [ed note: It doesn’t say what the cook is supposed to do with the brain. I suspect it’s already been removed and put aside for another dish. One of those ever-helpful “reserve for another use.”]
And if you’re considering making a rabbit, here’s how to truss a hare “in the most fashionable Way.” I do wish the rabbit’s expression weren’t so . . . emotive.
I’m working on two different projects at the moment, one about poison, the other about colonial America, so I’ve been reading a lot about tobacco.By the middle of the seventeenth century, when the Jamestown colonists figured out how to grow tobacco, pipe smoking quickly became extremely popular in England. It was smoked in long clay pipes.Tobacco was widely thought to be a sort of miracle drug for all sorts of ailments, from head colds to cancer. A special kind of medicinal enema forced tobacco smoke up a person’s “back end.” Here’s a “tobacco clyster,” used to resuscitate drowning victims. Smoking really took off during the plague of 1665. Children were sent to school with pipes. Those who didn’t know how to smoke were instructed by the teacher.
You can’t make this stuff up.In France and Spain, snuff was more popular than smoking. If you think about it, sniffing the powdered form of tobacco would be a lot more convenient than smoking it, before matches were available. By the 1770s, London tobacco sellers sold 80 percent snuff and only 20 percent pipe tobacco. It wasn’t until the first decade of the nineteenth century that matches were invented and cigars showed up. Cigarettes became popular around the turn of the next century.
I am back from a week in Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown, Virginia, where I went to do research for a book. Conveniently, I was able to go with my history-teacher husband, because he’s on sabbatical this year. He had meetings set up with several members of the Colonial Williamsburg education department to discuss the educational resources that are available at their new, amazing multimedia library and e-learning site. It was developed by teachers for teachers. (Teachers! It is an incredible resource! Check it out! )
I’ll share just a few highlights. First, the apothecary shop, where the super-knowledgeable apothecary showed me cinchona bark (infused in brandy, it was used to treat malaria–eventually quinine was derived from it):And actual blister beetles (cantharides)–when ground up into a powder, they were applied as blister poultices:And of course I snapped a picture of this clyster (in case you missed my blog about enemas you can read that here).At the milliner’s, the tailor showed me actual cochineal, a type of scale insect used for red dye:The weather was hot and humid, and the horses clopping along the street were a powerful reminder about what life in the 18th century would have smelled like. By afternoon every day, the odor of manure sort of permeated your nostrils every time you stepped outside:The streets get cleaned every morning, so it wasn’t overpowering, but it did drive home just how smelly actual city streets must have been.
Anyone who’s ever set foot in the “girl” aisle of Toys R Us knows that modern toy manufacturers like to assign pink for girl-toys and anything but pink (usually blue or black or camouflage) for boy-toys. Nowadays everything is color-coded, even pink or blue diapers, because Heaven forbid you should scar your child by dressing him or her in the wrong color, or giving him or her the wrong toy. I’ve rantedblogged about this before. But did you know that this pink-is-for-girls, blue-is-for-boys phenomenon is relatively recent?
Pre-20th century, girls often wore blue.
And baby boys often wore pink.Some poor babies had to wear stuff like this.
According to this article in Smithsonian, toy and clothing retailers didn’t dictate pink and blue as gender signifiers until the 1940s. Prior to that, you’d see lots of images like these (note these are both boys):
A paper doll from 1920 called “Baby Bobby.” (Winterthur Museum and Library, via Smithsonian)
A 1910 boy paper doll called Percy (Winterthur Museum and Library, via Smithsonian)
And most babies, at least those whose parents could afford to dress them somewhat fashionably, were made to wear long dresses and long hair until boys were “breached” at about age 6 or 7. That’s also when they got their first haircut
Special thanks to my friend, Ying Lee, for alerting me to this pink and blue historical phenomenon!
As part of my research for an upcoming book, I’ve been reading old newspaper accounts of murderers, including an infamous poisoning case that happened in London, in 1910. Here are the quick details: Doctor Hawley Harvey Crippen (1862 – 1910) was an American-born “doctor” (well he had some medical training, anyway) who married a brash, heavy-drinking, music-hall singer named Cora Turner. Here’s Cora (in an impressive corset).
The marriage was an unhappy one, to say the least. One day, Cora Turner disappeared. Concerned friends notified Scotland Yard, and Crippen was questioned. Soon after that, he and his mistress, a young woman named Ethel Le Neve, fled England on a ship bound for Canada. Meanwhile, Scotland Yard inspectors searched Crippen’s home and found bits and pieces of a human body, buried in the basement.
The news quickly spread that the fugitives had escaped. The captain of the ship grew suspicious of the couple and telegraphed a message back to Scotland Yard by the new Marconi telegraph, alerting them that Crippen and Le Neve were on board. A Scotland Yard inspector boarded a faster ship. Newspapers reported breathlessly about the “race across the Atlantic.” Would the ship overtake Crippen’s? It did. The inspector was waiting for the fugitive couple as their ship arrived in Canada. They were arrested and taken back to England. Crippen was found guilty and hanged on November 23, 1910. (Le Neve was found not guilty.)
I was struck by the police report of Crippen and Le Neve, as reprinted in The Times (Friday, July 15th 1910, page 9). It’s just not the sort of police report you read every day (wait, not everyone reads police reports every day?). I omitted the long, detailed descriptions of what they were wearing for space, but those are fascinating, too. The details really evoke the era. Fiction writers, you could get some good material reading old newspaper reports.
Here’s Crippen:
“Wanted for murder and mutilation of a woman: Hawley Harvey Crippen…an American doctor; age 50; height 5ft 3 in; complexion fresh; hair light brown, inclined sandy, scanty and bald on top; long sandy moustache, rather straggly…eyes grey; flat on bridge of nose; false teeth; wears gold-rimmed spectacles; may be dressed in dark-brown jacket …[etc]…rather slovenly appearance; throws his feet out when walking; speaks with slight American accent; wears hat back of head; very plausible and quiet-spoken; speaks French; carries firearms; shows his teeth much when talking.”
And here’s the description of Ethel:
“Will go as Crippen’s wife, age 27, height 5ft, 5 in; complexion pale; hair light brown; large grey eyes; good teeth; good looking; medium build; pleasant appearance; quiet, subdued manner; looks intently when in conversation; walks slowly; reticent; …[etc]”“Throws his feet out when walking??” “Looks intently when in conversation?”” Who wrote this police report for Scotland Yard? Was it one rogue guy who had aspirations as a fiction writer? Whoever it was, he had quite the flair for description.
As a final farewell to summer (*sniff*) I thought I’d post some amazing panoramic images from the Library of Congress, showing bathing beauties from the “aughts,” teens, and twenties. But then I realized there were no people of color in any of these images. In those days, beaches were segregated. I quickly discovered that it’s really hard to find pictures of people of color frolicking on beaches.
Finally, though, I found this cool picture. It’s from a 1930 YMCA camp, and I got permission to post it from the National Museum of American History. My favorite is the girl on the far right. Also the kid with the ball, third from right.
Scurlock Studio Records, Archives Center, National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution. Used with permission
Here are the panoramic pictures. I love the bathing suits, the varied and lovely bodies that are completely innocent of gym workouts, and the delight you see in the subjects’ faces. I think you can click on each one to see it in close-up, and I urge you to do so.
I’m reading a lot of medical journals these days. As I was browsing Medical Magazine, dated 1833, I kept coming across lines like this one:
A quick search of the whole journal brought up dozens upon dozens of references to using leeches to cure any number of ills. Here’s just a small sampling:
For rheumatic fever:
For glossitis (an inflammation of the tongue):
For epilepsy:And cholera:Eye pain? Why not apply leeches to the eyelids?For insanity and menstrual disorders? They put them *cringe* here:And for mumps, they put them on the *wince* testicles:Anyway, you get the idea.
The Regent (later King Charles V, right) and the King of Navarre (Charles II the Bad, left) conferring in a tent. From the Chroniques de France ou de St Denis, BL Royal MS 20 C vii f. 135v
Meet Charles, King of Navarre (1332 – 1387), also known as Charles the Bad. Because he tried, unsuccessfully, to conquer both France and Spain, the French called him Charles Le Mauvais, and the Spanish, Carlos el Malo.
What was so “the bad” about him? A combination of unpopular taxation policies, endless treasonous plotting with the English to overthrow his father-in-law, Charles V, the king of France, and for a generally dissolute lifestyle. One of the guys he was known to hang out with was called Peter the Cruel (from Seville). Barbara Tuchman describes him as a “supreme troublemaker,” who was “absolutely without scruple.” (132)*
But it’s his gruesome death for which he is most remembered. On a winter night in 1386 he fell ill with chills and shivering. According to Tom Standage in his fascinating book, A History of the World in Six Glasses**, Le Mauvais’s doctor ordered him wrapped up in cloth. The doctor decided to try the new go-to medicine, distilled wine, known as aqua vitae. Distilled wine was way higher in alcohol than regular wine or other fermented drinks. At the time, it was thought that aqua vitae could be helpful either by having the patient drink it or by applying it topically to the affected areas—in the case of the debauched king, that meant his whole body, as he had fever and chills. The doctor opted for the topical approach. Oopsadaisy. (Other accounts say it was brandy, but I’m pretty sure brandy that’s been repeatedly distilled may be the same thing as aqua vitae.)
Distilling apparatus
They soaked the king’s sheets with aqua vitae or maybe brandy, and wrapped him up from head to toe, to warm his body and induce sweating. But then, “One of the female [others say a male valet] attendants of the palace, charged to sew up the cloth that contained the patient, having come to the neck, the fixed point where she was to finish her seam, made a knot according to custom; but as there was still remaining an end of thread, instead of cutting it as usual with scissors, she had recourse to the candle, which immediately set fire to the whole cloth. Being terrified, she ran away, and abandoned the king, who was thus burnt alive in his own palace.”** He lived for two agonizing weeks before expiring.
**History of the world in Six Glasses by Tom Standage page 98-100
***Francis Blagdon, 1803, Paris as it was and as it is: or, A sketch of the French capital, illustrative of the effects of the revolution, with respect to sciences, literature, arts, religion, education, manners, and amusements; comprising also a correct account of the most remarkable national establishments and public buildings
According to the "pain scale" rating of researcher J.O. Schmidt, the sting of a southern paper wasp feels like "spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut."
What I mean by “exciting” is that it’s hard to find pictures of underwear from the Renaissance period.
I think they might be chemises:
For glossitis (an inflammation of the tongue):
For epilepsy:
