Arsing about, 1780s style...
Writing stuff set in the late 18th century has involved a lot of research. It has also - as per usual - rubbed off on me. So since I was on my own, I decided to try it for a week.
Clothes
Whilst I have previously made fully boned stays, a serviceable robe Anglaise, and a lovely gentleman’s coat, they’re all stuck in Hawai'i, so I had to make do with what I could scavenge from my more normal wardrobe. Since I knew I couldn’t match authenticity (and fancied wearing knickers) I was mostly going for the general feel or shape in an outfit. Corsets, swishy skirts. Breeches (I do actually own a pair), floofy shirts, fitted waistcoats. I wore random wigs some days just for the feeling of wearing one, as the periwig was still the rage for gentleman and a lady’s wig could reach insane heights.
Food
There should have been a lot more alcohol in my diet (there was already quite a bit), but I didn’t fancy a crash course in ‘Gout for Beginners’. Water of the time was pretty filthy; the all-round thirst-quencher was ‘small ale’, ie, very weak ale. On top of that, when out and about or entertaining, ladies drank tea, and gentlemen coffee. At breakfast and lunch, small ale, cider or beer was usual, at supper wine, porter, brandy, sack (sweet wine) and gin were all on the menu.
From what I understand, rich folk went off vegetables in the first half of the century, seeing them as unwholesome and fit only for cattle. By 1780 attitudes had changed, as the recipe books and market produce lists involve a whole plethora of veg, some of which I’d never heard of, like skirret, endive or cardoons. There were also some things I omitted, like the tansy from my tansy and herb omelet. It makes the dish turn green and gives it a remarkable nutty flavor (apparently), alas it’s also poisonous.
I did really enjoy eating and drinking 'un-breakfasty' things for breakfast. Custard and nutmeg with small-ale? Lovely. Mackerel and samphire pottage on toast with a jar of cider? Yes please. Porridge made with currant-steeped milk and a glass of wine? Win.
Household
Could I have cooked each day over an open hearth? Yes. Did I? No, although I was tempted ‘cos I’ve done it before and had lots of fun. In the end, I didn’t fancy using up the entire wood-store cooking three meals a day for one. Also, since I lack the cook, footman and two maids-of-all-work who ought attend me (as a bare minimum of staff,) I felt using an actual oven or stove was fair exchange. I forbade myself from turning on any lights, which made my days very dingy when the weather turned dark. I acquired a new obsession of window vs furniture placement - I understand why the well off had multiple parlors at different ends of the house to catch the best of the light throughout the day.
Hygiene
Did I pee in a pot? Yes. Did I shit in one? No - the Oast doesn’t have nightsoilmen to deal with the midden. Did I wash? Yes - hands and face every morning and evening in water laced with vinegar and rosewater. Research suggests that most folk bathed/shaved/washed properly once a week on Saturday (ready for church on Sunday) and at other times only if the circumstances called for it. I decided the circumstances called for it because I said so, and had two baths, both hot. (Once again I exchanged servants for modern household utilities.) Deodorant, shampoo and make-up were kept absent. Not because they didn’t have all of those items - they did - but because the ingredients were usually cruder or more poisonous and I didn't fancy trying to replicate them.
Teeth are another interesting area. They didn’t have toothpaste or brushes, but they were concerned with healthy teeth: etiquette books of the time warn gentlemen against picking their teeth at the table or cleaning their teeth or mouth with the tablecloth. I settled on gargling with saltwater and then buffing my teeth with a rough cloth. (Not up to the latest sonar-electric toothbrush, but a lot more effective than you’d think.)
Time
This perhaps out of all aspects of the experiment, was where I was most meticulous in exacting a change from my normal day. I researched habits and usual days as written about by Peyps and also Austen. Both of those were wildly different and neither were accurate for what I wanted, but they did give me a strong framework. My days followed a routine which included an hour's letter writing in the morning, and time set aside for walks in the garden or down the lane. Breakfast was at ten, lunch at two and supper at six.
By far the strangest thing (and most alarming) was 1st and 2nd sleep. There is a wealth of historical evidence in literature of sleep being taken in two halves, with a space of at least an hour in between. Apparently this continued up until the early 1800s, when (I assume) the more ‘modern’ lifestyle, technology, and industry caused it to fall from favour. In the ‘intermission’ between sleep, people would variously talk, shag, reflect, read, write or pray.
The first night I stayed awake for ten minutes of my aloted two hours before giving up. The second night, being utterly braindead and having no one to converse with or shag, I cheated and watched Garrow’s Law (18th C courtroom drama based on records from the Old Bailey). By night three I had given up on the whole 1st/2nd sleep thing as I just couldn’t make it work. Which was a shame, because I really liked the idea of having a secret awake slot in the middle of the night where I could read or write in the blissful quiet when every other bugger in the county’s asleep.
Projects
My two main goals were sewing and writing. Sewing because I wanted to make a caraco/pet en l’air, and writing because I had a story about Bedlam and the Gordon Riots to finish.
For the sewing I used my 1890’s hand-cranked machine. Yes, I should have done it by hand. No, I couldn’t be arsed. Also, I wanted to have a chance of finishing the projects by the end of the week.
When writing my story, I should have used a quill pen and ink (as I did with my morning letters to K). I didn’t, I typed it on Mercy. Why? In 1780 a hand-written manuscript would have been given to a printer’s assistant to decipher and set. That doesn’t happen nowadays, so I felt justified as once more I used modern tech in the place of servants and poorly paid lackies: viva la industrial revolution.
I painted my two main characters under the influence of gin - me, not them. (Yes, there is a legitimate reason why her hair is short like that.)
Conclusion
From my historical research of the latter half of the 18th C, and my petty attempt to emulate it for a week, I have concluded I would be perfectly happy there given three or four imperatives.
1) Money. Being less than upper middle class is mostly a recipe for disaster in this time (especially for a woman).
2) An understanding husband. Did I mention that whole being female thing? Whilst women could and did own businesses, run households, entertain society, influence politics, shag kings and have a high old time, their agency in such matters was usually linked to a man in their life. Often a father or husband or lover, sometimes just a random bloke. (There are some fascinating stories of ‘false husbands’ - women who presented themselves as male and married other girls. Sometimes it was all for money, sometimes for love or mutual stability. Often they weren’t discovered as ‘false’ for years or decades!)
3) Health. Anytime you required a surgeon or a physician was bad. If it couldn’t be cured by rest, paregoric, purges, leeches or bleeding, then you were fucked. Getting ill wasn’t great, but anything requiring minor (let alone major!) surgery was far worse: tonsillitis, appendicitis, kidney stones or a tooth abscess were all quite capable of killing you due mainly to shock and infection.
4) Law. The Bloody Code was in effect - you could be hung for a sheep as a lamb and much more besides. Getting into debt could land you in gaol, flogging and pillorying was still common for minor offenses - as was branding. Women were burnt at the stake for false coining as it counted at high treason, and the noose smiled over man women and child alike.
So, there we have it, gimme money, health, no legal issues and an understanding male (or female in convincing guise) and I’d be set =)
Clothes
Whilst I have previously made fully boned stays, a serviceable robe Anglaise, and a lovely gentleman’s coat, they’re all stuck in Hawai'i, so I had to make do with what I could scavenge from my more normal wardrobe. Since I knew I couldn’t match authenticity (and fancied wearing knickers) I was mostly going for the general feel or shape in an outfit. Corsets, swishy skirts. Breeches (I do actually own a pair), floofy shirts, fitted waistcoats. I wore random wigs some days just for the feeling of wearing one, as the periwig was still the rage for gentleman and a lady’s wig could reach insane heights.
Food
There should have been a lot more alcohol in my diet (there was already quite a bit), but I didn’t fancy a crash course in ‘Gout for Beginners’. Water of the time was pretty filthy; the all-round thirst-quencher was ‘small ale’, ie, very weak ale. On top of that, when out and about or entertaining, ladies drank tea, and gentlemen coffee. At breakfast and lunch, small ale, cider or beer was usual, at supper wine, porter, brandy, sack (sweet wine) and gin were all on the menu.
From what I understand, rich folk went off vegetables in the first half of the century, seeing them as unwholesome and fit only for cattle. By 1780 attitudes had changed, as the recipe books and market produce lists involve a whole plethora of veg, some of which I’d never heard of, like skirret, endive or cardoons. There were also some things I omitted, like the tansy from my tansy and herb omelet. It makes the dish turn green and gives it a remarkable nutty flavor (apparently), alas it’s also poisonous.
I did really enjoy eating and drinking 'un-breakfasty' things for breakfast. Custard and nutmeg with small-ale? Lovely. Mackerel and samphire pottage on toast with a jar of cider? Yes please. Porridge made with currant-steeped milk and a glass of wine? Win.
Household
Could I have cooked each day over an open hearth? Yes. Did I? No, although I was tempted ‘cos I’ve done it before and had lots of fun. In the end, I didn’t fancy using up the entire wood-store cooking three meals a day for one. Also, since I lack the cook, footman and two maids-of-all-work who ought attend me (as a bare minimum of staff,) I felt using an actual oven or stove was fair exchange. I forbade myself from turning on any lights, which made my days very dingy when the weather turned dark. I acquired a new obsession of window vs furniture placement - I understand why the well off had multiple parlors at different ends of the house to catch the best of the light throughout the day.
Hygiene
Did I pee in a pot? Yes. Did I shit in one? No - the Oast doesn’t have nightsoilmen to deal with the midden. Did I wash? Yes - hands and face every morning and evening in water laced with vinegar and rosewater. Research suggests that most folk bathed/shaved/washed properly once a week on Saturday (ready for church on Sunday) and at other times only if the circumstances called for it. I decided the circumstances called for it because I said so, and had two baths, both hot. (Once again I exchanged servants for modern household utilities.) Deodorant, shampoo and make-up were kept absent. Not because they didn’t have all of those items - they did - but because the ingredients were usually cruder or more poisonous and I didn't fancy trying to replicate them.
Teeth are another interesting area. They didn’t have toothpaste or brushes, but they were concerned with healthy teeth: etiquette books of the time warn gentlemen against picking their teeth at the table or cleaning their teeth or mouth with the tablecloth. I settled on gargling with saltwater and then buffing my teeth with a rough cloth. (Not up to the latest sonar-electric toothbrush, but a lot more effective than you’d think.)
Time
This perhaps out of all aspects of the experiment, was where I was most meticulous in exacting a change from my normal day. I researched habits and usual days as written about by Peyps and also Austen. Both of those were wildly different and neither were accurate for what I wanted, but they did give me a strong framework. My days followed a routine which included an hour's letter writing in the morning, and time set aside for walks in the garden or down the lane. Breakfast was at ten, lunch at two and supper at six.
By far the strangest thing (and most alarming) was 1st and 2nd sleep. There is a wealth of historical evidence in literature of sleep being taken in two halves, with a space of at least an hour in between. Apparently this continued up until the early 1800s, when (I assume) the more ‘modern’ lifestyle, technology, and industry caused it to fall from favour. In the ‘intermission’ between sleep, people would variously talk, shag, reflect, read, write or pray.
The first night I stayed awake for ten minutes of my aloted two hours before giving up. The second night, being utterly braindead and having no one to converse with or shag, I cheated and watched Garrow’s Law (18th C courtroom drama based on records from the Old Bailey). By night three I had given up on the whole 1st/2nd sleep thing as I just couldn’t make it work. Which was a shame, because I really liked the idea of having a secret awake slot in the middle of the night where I could read or write in the blissful quiet when every other bugger in the county’s asleep.
Projects
My two main goals were sewing and writing. Sewing because I wanted to make a caraco/pet en l’air, and writing because I had a story about Bedlam and the Gordon Riots to finish.
For the sewing I used my 1890’s hand-cranked machine. Yes, I should have done it by hand. No, I couldn’t be arsed. Also, I wanted to have a chance of finishing the projects by the end of the week.
When writing my story, I should have used a quill pen and ink (as I did with my morning letters to K). I didn’t, I typed it on Mercy. Why? In 1780 a hand-written manuscript would have been given to a printer’s assistant to decipher and set. That doesn’t happen nowadays, so I felt justified as once more I used modern tech in the place of servants and poorly paid lackies: viva la industrial revolution.
I painted my two main characters under the influence of gin - me, not them. (Yes, there is a legitimate reason why her hair is short like that.)
Conclusion
From my historical research of the latter half of the 18th C, and my petty attempt to emulate it for a week, I have concluded I would be perfectly happy there given three or four imperatives.
1) Money. Being less than upper middle class is mostly a recipe for disaster in this time (especially for a woman).
2) An understanding husband. Did I mention that whole being female thing? Whilst women could and did own businesses, run households, entertain society, influence politics, shag kings and have a high old time, their agency in such matters was usually linked to a man in their life. Often a father or husband or lover, sometimes just a random bloke. (There are some fascinating stories of ‘false husbands’ - women who presented themselves as male and married other girls. Sometimes it was all for money, sometimes for love or mutual stability. Often they weren’t discovered as ‘false’ for years or decades!)
3) Health. Anytime you required a surgeon or a physician was bad. If it couldn’t be cured by rest, paregoric, purges, leeches or bleeding, then you were fucked. Getting ill wasn’t great, but anything requiring minor (let alone major!) surgery was far worse: tonsillitis, appendicitis, kidney stones or a tooth abscess were all quite capable of killing you due mainly to shock and infection.
4) Law. The Bloody Code was in effect - you could be hung for a sheep as a lamb and much more besides. Getting into debt could land you in gaol, flogging and pillorying was still common for minor offenses - as was branding. Women were burnt at the stake for false coining as it counted at high treason, and the noose smiled over man women and child alike.
So, there we have it, gimme money, health, no legal issues and an understanding male (or female in convincing guise) and I’d be set =)