City streets could be very dark in the days before street lamps. On moonless nights, citizens in 18th century cities could hire a “linkboy” to light the way; he used a torch of rope stiffened with fat, pitch, and resin.
Sting-a-long
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.”
To Die For
Van Gogh, self portrait after cutting off his ear and working with green pigment
For my upcoming book on insects and their effect on human history, I started researching arsenic as a component of many insecticides. The more I read, the more I learned about how widespread was the use of arsenical compounds during the 19th century. Now I’m obsessed with arsenic.
Arsenic has been a favorite poison since ancient times; it’s been called “inheritance powder” for its ability to hasten the death of an impatient heir’s relative.
In smaller doses, it doesn’t kill you right away, but you can be slowly poisoned over time. Prolonged exposure causes all kinds of terrible gastrointestinal problems which, incidentally, may mimic the symptoms of cholera.
Victorian-era women, anxious to achieve a fashionable pallor, nibbled on arsenic wafers. And arsenical compounds were used to tint all kinds of products. There’s story after story about acute and chronic poisonings, both intentional and accidental.
Shades of green derived from copper arsenate were known by different names: Paris green, Scheele’s green, emerald green, and parrot green, to name a few. Mountains of arsenic were the by-product of the coal industry, so mining industrialists were all too happy to sell it to manufacturers. And the public loved it; brilliant greens became all the rage in the 1860s. In his fascinating book, The Arsenic Century, James Whorton documents how omnipresent the arsenical pigments were throughout Victorian society–everything seemed to have been tinted green, including hard candies, fake flowers, stuffed birds, wallpaper, upholstery, fabric, butcher paper, shelf liner, and even money, in the U.S. The list goes on and on. And it was all toxic. There’s a lot of speculation that the arsenic in green paint led to Monet’s blindness and Van Gogh’s psychotic episodes. As one reviewer of Wharton’s book put it, “society beauties whirling through waltzes in their green muslin ball gowns spread clouds of toxic dust like helicopters spraying pesticide.”* Museum curators who handle gowns and accessories from that era have to wear protective gloves and clothing.
And I haven’t even talked about the arsenic in pesticides yet. They’ll have to get their own entry.
Back to arsenic and fashion: Evidently the movie-makers on the set of Gone With the Wind got the color pretty accurate–both in the scene where Rhett presents Scarlett with the fashionable green hat he bought for her in Paris, and in the scene where Scarlett decides to fashion herself a dress from the green drapes.
I wanted to see what the color really looks like. Granted, there were all different shades, but I found this pair of gloves on ebay that were advertised as from the 1940s. I bought them for twelve dollars, and the seller turned out to be a little old lady in Florida. When I got the package, I found that she had enclosed three one-dollar bills with my gloves, along with a note explaining that the five dollars I’d paid for postage was more than it had actually cost. I can’t confirm that this is actually an arsenical green, and yet, I’m pretty sure that it is, given the era, and the color. I wish you could see them in real life. They’re really a beautiful color. I’ll be bringing them to school visits to show kids (enclosed in a Ziploc bag, for everyone’s safety).
*review by John Carey timesonline.co.uk 1/24/2010
Legging It
Trousers were standard wear during the Byzantine Empire, even for women. When a European woman was presented to the Persian court wearing a skirt, they at first thought she had lost a leg.
Source: Batterberry, M and A, Mirror, Mirror
Reel Bugs: 8-Legged Freaks
Over the weekend I watched another insect horror film, Eight-Legged Freaks (2002). It’s meant to be a satire of the insect B-movies from the fifties, but I found it wanting.
The set up is labored, the plot contrived, and the subplots are confusing and dull—a bad combination. It stars David Arquette and also features a young Scarlett Johansson, playing the rebellious daughter of the local sheriff.
The plot, such as it is, involves a spider farm owner who feeds his spiders crickets that were contaminated by toxic waste. They grow bigger and bigger, escape from the cages, eat the owner, and then begin terrorizing the sleepy town of Prosperity, Arizona.
It’s a pretty dumb movie that tries to be funny, but most of the comic bits fall flat, particularly the scenes showing a lot of people, as well as several cute dogs and cats, who get their insides liquefied by arachnids the size of minivans. And the giant spiders giggle and grunt a lot.
Most of the scientific information is imparted by a boy named Mike (Scarlett Johansson’s character’s younger brother), who informs us about spiders’ nocturnal behavior, feeding habits, and sensitivity to vibrations. Of course no one listens to him until it’s too late, after dozens of people have been cocooned and exsanguinated.
It’s mildly cool to see gigantic trapdoor spiders in action, and the moviemakers at least nod in the direction of the actual spiders’ behavior. In real life, trapdoor spiders build hinged, camouflaged hiding places, lay trip lines outside their burrows, detect their prey by vibrations, and then burst out and snag their prey.
Giddyap Joe
On long cattle drives, cooks were paid better than cowboys. Coffee was so strong, it was said that a pistol could float in it.
source: Reader’s Digest Everyday Life through the Ages
No Match
"The Alchymist, In Search of the Philosopher's Stone" painted by Joseph Wright in 1717.
I’ve been haunted for some time now by a 19th century affliction known as “phossy jaw.” To understand what it is, you have to know a little bit about the element phosphorous. It was supposedly first isolated in 1669, by a German alchemist named Hennig Brand, although other sources mention Arabic scientists as having discovered it earlier.
Anyway, Brand gets the credit. He stumbled across it by dumb luck as he was trying to create the philosopher’s stone (believed to offer the possessor immortality). He boiled up 60 buckets of urine, which contains traces of dissolved phosphates, and then distilled what was left over. The resulting white, waxy substance glowed in the dark. He called it phosphor after a Greek word that means “light bearer.”
Nowadays phosphorous is derived from other sources (like prehistoric deposits of dead animals and ancient bird droppings), so chemists no longer have to boil up vats of urine.
Phosphorous is a highly toxic and incendiary substance, and is still used in modern warfare. Back in the 19th century, it was used to make matches. Early matches, known as “lucifers,” had a lot of problems, among them, a disgusting odor. In 1830, Frenchman Charles Sauria coated lucifers with phosphorous, which helped diminish the odor, but which contained enough toxins in one pack to kill a person.
Workers in match factories—primarily women—were exposed to the deadly white phosphorous. Many of these “mixers,” “dippers,” and “boxers” developed a grotesque affliction that became known as “phossy jaw.” The jawbone was destroyed by chronic exposure to phosphorous, which resulted in swollen gums, abscesses, and a gradual disfigurement of the jaw bone. After prolonged exposure they experienced convulsions, general debility, and lung hemorrhage. I’d include a picture but it’s too gross. You can google it.
Powder Room
British soldiers of the 18th century received one pound of flour per week, so that they could powder their wigs.
I’ll Just Go Freshen up
Ancient Egyptians “cleaned” their bodies with scented oils. Greeks and Romans scraped down with a strigil. The Gauls used a paste made of animal fat and potash. Soap of any kind seems not to have reappeared in the western world until the tenth century.
I am SO a la commode
OMG, OMG–Look what I just won on ebay!
Yes, I know. Isn’t it a gorgeous piece? (I’ve always hated when people refer to an antique as a “piece”–usually they describe something as “an interesting piece”–but I’m going to start using that term for my new piece. Of furniture.) I’m guessing it’s mid-19th century, and looks a little battered up, but I can’t believe I am the proud owner of this “Old Oak Antique Potty Chair Chamber Pot Commode With Drawer.” I’ve been eyeing these sorts of chairs for months–actually, years–on ebay but they’re usually very expensive (and sellers show them with potted flowers in the chamber pot–why would a bidder bid on such a thing and then try to pretend it’s a plant stand? Or is my judgment clouded by my abiding passion for all things toilet?). It was only 65 bucks, too (and 14 dollars shipping–a bargain). Anyway I was going to blog about phosphorous today, and how it was first derived from boiled urine, but you’ll just have to wait to read that until Friday.
What do you think that drawer was used for? Maybe when I receive it I’ll understand it better.
I have to go rearrange the living room to make room for my new piece. Friends who live near by, you are welcome to come over to see it when it arrives! Meanwhile, here’s another angle:
