tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10977000368744018842024-02-19T19:47:20.219-07:00MitreSquareMurderPersonal observations and random historical rants about Victorian, Edwardian & Georgian nonsense, as well as any other random bits of history I seize upon. Old photographs, odd quotes and forgotten bits of things that never made the textbooks. Whitechapel, corsets and frigates, oh my!LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-52564489457912125982012-06-01T02:11:00.001-06:002012-06-01T02:11:41.410-06:00The Medieval Dick Tree Strikes Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I recently posted <a href="http://mitresquaremurder.blogspot.com/2012/06/magnificent-medieval-dick-tree-new.html">this</a> about the discovery of medieval dick trees by a friend of mine. We decided to do a bit more research, in the interest of sharing the spirit of medieval penises with all, which has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a history-obsessed teenage girl. *ahem*<br />
Apparently, it has everything to do with witchcraft and propaganda. <br />
<img alt="http://www.thehistoryblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/massa_marittima-mural.png" height="487" src="http://www.thehistoryblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/massa_marittima-mural.png" width="640" /><br />
On the subject of this image, which is actually a mural at a fountain and was included in the aforementioned post, George Ferzoco, director of the
Centre for Tuscan Studies at the University of Leicester, has written an entire book. He claims that the mural was really a giant slur against a political group called the Ghilbellines by a political group called the Guelphs. Roughly speaking, the Ghibellines were a rural people who supported the Holy Roman Empire, while the Guelphs were wealthier and supported the Pope. They liked to argue and go to war against each other a lot and, according to Ferzoco, the Guelphs had just (however temporarily) kicked the Ghibellines out of Massa Marittima, the town in which this phallic mural was created.The black eagle was the symbol of the Guelphs (for reasons which escape me, as 'Guelph' is simply the Italian version of the Bavarian 'Welf' family, who were symbolised by a lion) and if you put it all together, Ferzoco claims the image says this: “if the Ghibellines are
allowed power they will bring with them heresy, sexual perversion, civic
strife and witchcraft.”<br />
<br />
That's some pretty heavy mudslinging and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I buy it. Medievalists had little qualms about depicting things as they were; this is why we have a tree full of dicks and images of people with various weapons sticking out of them.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://www.medevalsupplies.co.uk/schools/wound_surgery_1517.gif" src="http://www.medevalsupplies.co.uk/schools/wound_surgery_1517.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wound surgery, 1517. This poor fellow must have the worst luck in the world</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If the Guelphs truly wanted to show 'civic strife' wouldn't there be people murdering each other or robbing each other? Instead of a rather contented scene, with the exception of two women who appear to be cat-fighting?<br />
<br />
If they wanted to show sexual perversion, wouldn't they have something barbaric taking place, rather than what appears to be one of the disembodied penises gently poking the back of a woman's dress? After all, if pins depicting characterised genitalia wearing hats, crowns, wings and anything else you can think of were common in the Middle Ages (if this sounds like a must-have for your wardrobe, see <a href="http://www.fetteredcockpewters.com/page_naughty_bits.htm">this</a> site. They're actually rather cheap) and blatantly detached phalli were accepted enough to be depicted on a large mural, I hardly think that 'sexual perversion' would be limited to this. <br />
<br />
Heresy, I can perhaps see, as I'm not certain on the godliness of cock-trees and their possible usages. But was this really the greatest threat the Guelphs could think up? "The Ghibellines will infest your towns with cock-trees! No grove, no orchard, no bower will be safe! The streets will be littered with dropped dicks and your old women will be hit upon the head as they recline in the shade!"<br />
<br />
And the witch craft? Well according the the Malleus Maleficarum, a famous fifteenth century book dedicated to finding and eliminating all witches, that is precisely how the dicks got into the tree in the first place.<br />
<br />
<i>And what, then, is to be thought of those witches who in this way
sometimes collect male organs in great numbers, as many as twenty or
thirty members together, and put them in a bird’s nest, or shut them up
in a box, where they move themselves like living members, and eat oats
and corn, as has been seen by many and is a matter of common report?</i><br />
<i>…</i><br />
<i>For a certain man tells that, when he had lost his member, he
approached a known witch to ask her to restore it to him. She told the
afflicted man to climb a certain tree, and that he might take which he
liked out of the nest in which there were several members. And when he
tried to take a big one, the witch said: You must not take that one;
adding, because it belongs to a parish priest.</i><br />
<br />
Setting aside the obvious implications about parish priests and large members and the disturbing mental images of dicks eating corn (I think I saw that horror movie...) we now have another threat: "The Ghibellines will steal your dicks and put them in boxes and in trees!" I think that alone might have frightened men enough to keep them away, regardless of their political and religious views.<br />
<br />
But Carl S. Pyrdum III of <a href="http://www.gotmedieval.com/">Got Medieval</a> isn't so sure it has anything to do with witches. He states:<br />
<br />
<i>On the charge of witchcraft, I am less convinced. Beyond the problematic
several centuries separating the Massa Marittima mural and the Malleus, there is little in the mural other than their proximity to the magic johnsons, that suggests that these women are witches.
</i><br />
<i>I know I’m going to take some heat from the medieval witchcraft lobby
here, but not every medieval woman found taking an interest in a
suddenly mobile phallus should be considered a witch. The Bibliotheque
Nationale, for instance, has a manuscript of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Romance of the Rose</span>
with a marginal illustration of a woman trying to fish a penis out of a
penis tree, much like the woman in the Massa Marittima mural, and in
the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Romance of the Rose </span>it’s usually just thought to be a joke about how lascivious women are. Similarly, there is the German medieval story, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Nonnenturnier</span>,
in which a man quarrels with his penis so much that it decides to leave
him, eventually ending up at a convent where a group of nuns hold a
tournament to determine who will get to have it.</i><br />
<br />
So what does this mural really mean? I'm no Medieval scholar and I welcome corrections, but it seems to me there are two different things at play here.<br />
<br />
First is the obvious: the Medieval period was all about interesting analogies and ways of referring to things. Chaucer's use of 'something green may I get' was so effective that we still have children singing 'Greensleeves' without being aware they're mourning the departure of a sexual strumpet. Penises growing on trees is in no way a far-fetched allusion to fertility and sexuality. So more than likely this was simply an interesting way of promoting the fertile waters of the particular spring (and perhaps those who met there for liaisons).<br />
<br />
But what about the eagles? Well, if you take a look at them, aren't they placed rather oddly? In contrast to the smooth flow of the rest of the piece and the generous spacing of the individuals, we have eagles crammed wherever they'll fit and flying in odd directions. Unless they have somehow become intoxicated by the phalli in the trees, they don't appear at all to fit with the style of the people below them.<br />
<br />
I think what we have here is a case of medieval graffiti. I can't be sure, as I have no way to examine the original mural, but perhaps the eagles were added later by someone in support of the Ghibellines. Or perhaps what Ferzoco says is largely true and the Guelphs added the eagles in an attempt to villainise penis trees?<br />
<br />
We may never know.</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-75794709506816424042012-06-01T00:39:00.000-06:002012-06-01T00:39:50.499-06:00The Magnificent Medieval Dick Tree: A New Discovery by RainstormDragon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.asset.soup.io/asset/3183/2723_6633.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.asset.soup.io/asset/3183/2723_6633.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From BnF MS Fr. 25526, a 14th-century copy of the Romance of the Rose</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
No, your eyes do not deceive you. The above is a genuine medieval
manuscript in which a woman is harvesting a basket full of dicks from a
tree. <br />Why?<br />Well, one can only presume if they weren't harvested
while firm, they would go soft and eventually fall off the tree? I
really don't know.<br /><br />Apparently<strong> this sort of thing happened often</strong> in medieval times, because backtracking through links, I found a post that included this carving as well:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrbS90OI6gThhSP4P8R-Hks7DkwMkmsnF2RmSSIzEynNesdH2i8wlZnCooV5Kd6z8VjjFYR8iFymGDDcucDciCbPjB0gIhb8JBg1M5vBp7khuMgVBOD6OVHlW2rqGDLE5szk6bvAjFog/s320/woodcarvednunphallus.jpg" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrbS90OI6gThhSP4P8R-Hks7DkwMkmsnF2RmSSIzEynNesdH2i8wlZnCooV5Kd6z8VjjFYR8iFymGDDcucDciCbPjB0gIhb8JBg1M5vBp7khuMgVBOD6OVHlW2rqGDLE5szk6bvAjFog/s320/woodcarvednunphallus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a contemporaneous altar carving</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />And further research yielded this illumination:<br /><img alt="http://www.thehistoryblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/massa_marittima-mural.png" src="http://www.thehistoryblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/massa_marittima-mural.png" /><br />I
gathered my courage and Google image searched, and it turns out that
this may not have been just some medieval superstition... <strong>there is modern photographic evidence </strong>of this happening with a passion fruit tree in Brazil:<br /><br /><img alt="Passion fruit" class="imagecache imagecache-medium imagecache-default imagecache-medium_default" height="350" src="http://www.globalpost.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/medium/passion_fruit.jpg" title="Passion fruit" width="467" /><img alt="http://colltales.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1.jpg?w=474" src="http://colltales.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1.jpg?w=474" /><br /><br />But that's not all! This has happened on <strong>at least three other types of trees</strong>:<br /><img alt="http://pinoyjokes.net/my/uploadedpics/378282nature_penis.jpg" src="http://pinoyjokes.net/my/uploadedpics/378282nature_penis.jpg" /><br /><img alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmkRPOGYbKfG6HsAQ3wCeDA5824WqlrWijBS_b0tfVjGaGWosacPhwoZs0teWtFEx1cXNqnCj02i_1fJ34JbBU-3loMZHq52z4BmJVGDIzgsYzQNXoIJNop2fPC9EfBpb-ynC1Dj9J4k/s1600/Sexy+tree.jpg" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmkRPOGYbKfG6HsAQ3wCeDA5824WqlrWijBS_b0tfVjGaGWosacPhwoZs0teWtFEx1cXNqnCj02i_1fJ34JbBU-3loMZHq52z4BmJVGDIzgsYzQNXoIJNop2fPC9EfBpb-ynC1Dj9J4k/s1600/Sexy+tree.jpg" /><br /><img height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZlxGrypzDysO9rN1Qo_Gt3z0UBBvOqDom5ZxcWdC5lPDP1tHdySI2elvTc4qoXEHtbb7LrS2KrsyG_rLrUm0F9pSXeHz3IggoBAjiO4pK-c97-Kcl8iS6WToAlk6dTkA9TxDjGPqvdA/s400/Male_and_female_coco-de-mer.jpg" width="400" /><br /><br />So yeah. I learned something tonight. <strong>Penises grow on trees. </strong><br />Nature. Well then..<br />
<br />
**This discovery was first made by my clever friend <a href="http://rainstormdragon.soup.io/">RainstormDragon</a>. I found it so silly I had to share it. I take no claim for it. You can find the original post <a href="http://rainstormdragon.soup.io/post/255063096/No-your-eyes-do-not-decieve-you">here.</a> </div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-90286891305280942182012-05-25T04:41:00.000-06:002012-05-25T05:35:16.280-06:00Death To The Earthquake-Causing Catfish! A Tale of Farting Gods and Flattened Fish<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img class="scaled-image" src="https://p.twimg.com/As7RiucCMAAwyfR.jpg:large" /> When the Great Ansei Edo Earthquake struck what is now Tokyo, Japan on November 11th, 1855 there was only one thing on the minds of the survivors: Death to the catfish!<br />
<br />
...<i>Catfish?</i> <br />
<br />
You may think catfish are fairly harmless Siluriformes, with cute whiskers and bulgy eyes, but that's where you'd be wrong.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.uglorable.com/media/2007/0059.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="It kind of reminds me of fat, which is kind of gross." /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, yeah, he's pretty darned cute. © Tetzl on Flickr.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As everyone in Edo-period Japan knew, a giant catfish called Namazu lived deep underground, lurking under cities in the depths of the earth. He was generally restrained by the god Kashima, who had a habit of standing on Namazu's head to keep him from being too unruly (works great on kids, too).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEYr9eau2OhzzKDIgbBC3XwlwI4Q7qCpmgBfT155cPi7yVmSXXFG-RJSifBBVt9jcuy-NS2pIq-hGQMJhJV5uCwPcX4IQkeoha4kq9Nep28ud5FppWiUYGfYAWZw4wtPBLZOp-Eydkz1S/s1600/Kashima+God.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kashima Flattens The Catfish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Before you start to sympathise too much with the poor whiskered fellow, let's talk about that fateful November day.<br />
<br />
You see, every once in awhile Kashima got bored and wanted to join a war. Or had to get up to use the bathroom. Or decided to start a lightning storm somewhere else. And whenever this happened, he'd place a large rock on Namazu's head to hold him down (This also works well on children.) and enlist the help of a minor god named Ebisu.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Ebisu_-_color.jpg" height="640" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Ebisu_-_color.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="244" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't even deny it - you're envious of his hat. I wouldn't mind tasting one of those fish, either.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Ebisu was a fisherman's friend, a merry fellow known as The Laughing God, who also bore a great fondness for large hats. He was, bizarrely, born without any bones, arms, or legs. How he managed to overcome this, I have no idea, but he somehow not only grew a skeleton, but became a god. This didn't fix his other birth defects, however, so though he has very large ears, he does not hear very well, he still limps, and is extremely absent-minded.<br />
<br />
If I wanted The Giant Catfish of Doom & Destruction properly guarded, I don't think Ebisu would have been my first choice, but maybe Kashima didn't want to be rude. Maybe no-one else volunteered.<br />
<br />
However it transpired, Ebisu was left to guard said Giant Catfish of Doom & Destruction while Kashima rode off to argue with Thor over who made a better god of thunder.<br />
<br />
Given what we know about Ebisu, is the following scene particularly surprising to anyone?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f3/Namazu-e_-_Kashima_absent-minded.jpg" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f3/Namazu-e_-_Kashima_absent-minded.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, Ebisu...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
That's right. Ebisu fell asleep. Of course, that's not all that's going on in this picture, but we'll get there.<br />
<br />
It also shouldn't be too surprising that Namazu was not particularly thrilled with the boulder-on-his-cranium idea. He didn't much care to be stood on, either. And he definitely didn't like being slept on. (Ebisu snored and everyone knows catfishes <i>hate </i>snoring.)<br />
<br />
So on November 11th, 1855, while Kashima was elsewhere, and Ebisu was sleeping, oblivious, Namazu tried to escape. He thrashed and he rolled and he flipped.<br />
<br />
He didn't manage to get the stone off his head, (or wake up Ebisu), but by the time Kashima came riding back at a fast gallop, Namazu had destroyed a good bit of the city of Edo.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/43/Namazu-e_-_Kashima_controls_namazu.jpg" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/43/Namazu-e_-_Kashima_controls_namazu.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kashima plays Asian Legolas.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Namazu got trod on some more, to the delight of the villagers, and Ebisu managed to keep his job by apologising profusely.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Namazue earthquake catfish picture -- " src="http://pinktentacle.com/images/11/namazue_24.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those are the scariest catfish I have ever seen. Also, Ebisu has a serious drunk-face going on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Here we see 18 Namazu apologising to Kashima for their crimes. I think catfish in robes are adorable. Maybe it's just me. This picture was supposed to protect your house from earthquakes if you put it on the ceiling. It would, at the very least, give you interesting dreams if you fell asleep looking at it. Or maybe that's me too.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Woodblock print of earthquake catfish -- " src="http://pinktentacle.com/images/11/namazue_5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behold the magical Japanese converse shoe of earthquake-protection.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It almost makes you feel sorry for them, until you realise that, here they are, clearly plotting the Tohoku Earthquake of 2011.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="namazu-e" border="0" src="http://www.printing-museum.org/en/collection/looking/img/02_02p02.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" vspace="10" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it me, or does the blue-robed catfish look like a communist?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But who on earth decided that catfish are the cause of earthquakes? And who is the strange fellow with the bare bum?<br />
<br />
The catfish are the easier to explain. It is said that catfish are more sensitive to earthquakes than many other animals and so, before an impending earthquake, would thrash wildly, perhaps in agitation, fear, or an attempt to escape. People seeing this wrongly assumed that the whiskered fish were actually participating in the quake activity.<br />
<br />
But the man with the naked backside is a bit of an odder story. Turns out his name is Raijin and he's the thunder god.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/83/Sanjusangendo_Raijin.jpg" height="640" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/83/Sanjusangendo_Raijin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="583" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thor has nothing on this. Sounds like he would have gotten on well with Joan of Finsbury. © Bamse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Gregory Smits explains in his work 'Shaking up Japan: Edo Society and the 1855 Catfish Picture Prints', that: <br />
<i>The strange looking man to the left of the print is the thunder deity, engaging in a peculiar pastime of some Edo residents, which we might call “extreme farting,” or perhaps “thunder farting.” The basic object of this sport was to make more noise than one’s opponents. According to the scholar Hiraga Gennai (1729–1779) in his treatise H¯ohiron (On farting), thunder farting made its debut in 1774 at the Ry¯ogoku Bridge, a major site of popular culture displays in Edo. Small drums issue forth from the thunder deity’s posterior, no doubt to emphasize the booming sonic element in his performance.</i><br />
<br />
At this point, really nothing from Japan should surprise me. <br />
<br />
Thanks to <a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Bamse">Bamse</a> and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tetzl/">tetzl</a> for their photographs. Thanks to <a href="http://pinktentacle.com/2011/04/namazu-e-earthquake-catfish-prints/">PinkTentacle</a> for the namazu-e (catfish pictures) and if you want to see catfish partying with prostitutes, you should check out the rest of the images I couldn't put in the post. Thanks to <a href="http://www.personal.psu.edu/faculty/g/j/gjs4/Shaking_Up_Japan.pdf">Gregory Smits</a> for information on farting gods and thank you for reading to the end of odd catfish post.</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0Kashima, Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan35.9657558 140.644812835.8629428 140.4868843 36.068568799999994 140.8027413tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-15670683995623405602012-05-25T02:21:00.001-06:002012-05-25T02:21:50.784-06:00Pummeled For Pies By Prostitutes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<em>About three o’clock yesterday afternoon a poor man who used to sell
hot pies, &c, went into one of the infamous brothels in
Dover-Street, to offer his pies for sale, when he was immediately
surrounded by the wretches who inhabited it, his pies were soon picked
up and devoured by them, they then hooted and laughed at him, setting
him at defiance, and refusing to pay for his pies. They then struck him
unmercifully with quart pots, a poker, &c, until he was quite
senseless and left for dead, of which they only made sport for some
time; but at length not recovering, the case became publicly known, and
the poor man was carried home to his house, 14, Tower Street, facing
Bethlem, but expired in a few minutes: a surgeon was sent for but could
render no assistance. One woman, who is charged with the mortal blow,
was secured and lodged in the watch-house.</em><br />
<em><br /></em><br />
~The Hereford Journal, September 1st, 1819</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0Dover St, City of Westminster, London, UK51.5083798 -0.142167651.5059093 -0.14710310000000001 51.5108503 -0.1372321tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-57780899001716038522012-05-25T00:59:00.000-06:002012-05-25T00:59:47.750-06:00Self-Injury Among Victorians? A Picture of Misery.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img alt="9004_8133" src="http://c.asset.soup.io/asset/3167/9004_8133.jpeg" /><br />
Eliza Josolyne, February 1857.<br />
Admitted to Bethlem "Bedlam" Mental Hospital,<br />
Age 23,<br />
For 'insanity from overwork'.<br /><br />Eliza
was admitted when she failed to keep up with the demands of a
single-servant house - that is, she was unable to perform the task of
tending, stocking, cleaning, lighting and banking the fires and lamps in
all twenty rooms during the winter months all by herself.<br /><br />She
began to self-injure and when admitted, her records reported that she
‘has frequently tried to injure herself by knocking her
head against doors and walls, and has slept in the padded room on this
account’.<br /><br />A few months later, Eliza was transferred to the 'Incurables Department' and no further record of her is known.</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0Bethlem Royal Hospital, Monks Orchard Rd, Beckenham, Greater London BR3 3BX, UK51.3811467 -0.027529651.371236200000006 -0.0472706 51.3910572 -0.0077886tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-89183488665966455372012-05-25T00:51:00.000-06:002012-05-25T00:51:26.253-06:00Another Breastoration!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1e/Kupecky_%C3%B6narck%C3%A9p.jpg" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1e/Kupecky_%C3%B6narck%C3%A9p.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portrait of the Artist With His Wife & Son</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Another marvelous example of <a href="http://mitresquaremurder.blogspot.com/2012/05/17th-century-breastoration-extremely.html">Breastoration</a>! This one comes courtesy of Jan Kupecky and was painted in 1718. I suppose if you're the artist and it's your wife, you get the benefit of depicting her topless. Makes me wonder what she thought of it. Or maybe as Ms. Loofbourow suggests, it was all part of the fashion.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-75963836875404949702012-05-25T00:41:00.001-06:002012-05-25T00:41:54.303-06:00Opium! The greatest gift a medical cabinet could have!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTmPTifilZpHK6Fr3JRNMgL0PlDqyyVtJyFO5aAlVaywELUWnvEPB37UCyI_BAXr9mQF1g-iu7GMRIybc26Y9S4yGqcviCHK48qRlqO-dxb1851ZQaLMK274d3_n0p-HoYaBj7Ol14cI/s1600/opium.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTmPTifilZpHK6Fr3JRNMgL0PlDqyyVtJyFO5aAlVaywELUWnvEPB37UCyI_BAXr9mQF1g-iu7GMRIybc26Y9S4yGqcviCHK48qRlqO-dxb1851ZQaLMK274d3_n0p-HoYaBj7Ol14cI/s1600/opium.jpeg" /></a></div>
Opium, of course, is made from the Opium Poppy (Papaver Somniferum) as are a whole range of drugs, both medicinal and illicit.<br />
<br />
Various opiates, such as laudanum, were once widely available. In Victorian times, anyone could purchase a bottle of laudanum for their pains, either physical or emotional, and opium was sold in large cakes wrapped in brown paper. From this, a mixture of sugar, opium and water could be made and this was frequently given to babies and small children to keep them quiet and still while their parents were busy. This naturally created a number of very young addicts, and in the 1800s there are numerous accounts of children as young as five attempting to buy bottles of laudanum for their own use.<br />
<br />
Today, opiates are strictly regulated drugs because of their high potential for abuse. Personally, I find this a shame and an over-exaggerated fear.<br />
<br />
The knowledge of the proper applications of opiates are no secret and have been well-known since ancient times. That doctors persist on prescribing these new 'wonder' drugs, when no-one has really any idea what they do, as they are only 'thought to work' in a particular fashion, seems impossibly reckless.<br />
<br />
Moreover, nothing kills pain quite like opiates. There is no safer, more readily available, widely understood drug for the treatment of acute and chronic pains than the extracts of Papaver sap.<br />
<br />
As a long-term sufferer of chronic pain (thankfully cleared up now through surgery) I understand both the great blessing of being temporarily painfree and the struggles involved to find a doctor who isn't too afraid of addiction to prescribe you a few pills.<br />
<br />
But this is a blog about history, not the modern medical field.</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-21729476911700280802012-05-24T23:23:00.001-06:002012-05-24T23:23:39.963-06:00C. F. Hovey's Dry Good's store, Summer Street, Boston, 1860<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8DJ_V3jUeCA/T78WbzaL-GI/AAAAAAAAAKA/GE2a1F1pXoE/s1600/SummerSt-CFHovey-1860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8DJ_V3jUeCA/T78WbzaL-GI/AAAAAAAAAKA/GE2a1F1pXoE/s1600/SummerSt-CFHovey-1860.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0363-383 Summer St, Boston, MA 02210, USA42.3482277 -71.046079142.3364922 -71.0658201 42.3599632 -71.0263381tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-26344228918249486612012-05-24T06:23:00.000-06:002012-05-24T06:23:16.006-06:00The 17th-Century Breastoration: An Extremely Witty Article by Lili Loofbourow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-10018" height="281" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/bras.jpg" title="Bras in the 17th century" width="375" /> </h4>
<br />
If you've ever been to a Renaissance Faire (I have), you know that
the concept is less Queen Elizabeth and more Don Key-Ho-Tee's Medieval
Potlucke WITH BREASTS. Or at least it was 10 years ago when a Ren-friend
and I ate shepherd's pie, looked at chain-mail, and — once we'd soaked
in enough of the Worlde and its high freckled bosoms — tried some
boob-hoisting ourselves.<br />
Putting a corset on is tough, and the instructions I received at the
Faire went as follows: Lean down, shove your boobs into it, straighten
up, then pop them up so they'll show through the dress. It may or may
not surprise you that a) these instructions came from the amiable
sales-fellow, and b) I walked around the booth with a nipple on display
until my friend came out of her dressing room.<br />
If this story has a moral, it's that cleavage-wrangling is complex. <em>My God!</em> I thought. <em>How did the ladies of yore do it?</em><br />
I'm finally in a position to find out. Picture it: It's the
seventeenth century. Bras don't exist yet. As a typical woman, what do
you do?<br />
<strong>Option 1: Consult a Reference Work! </strong>You might turn to the <em>Ladies' Dictionary</em>. Published in 1694, here's the entry marked “Breasts”:<br />
<blockquote>
<em>how to make them Plump and Round</em>: Breasts that
hang loose, and are of an extraordinary largeness, lose their charms,
and have their Beauty buried in the grave of uncomeliness, whilst those
that are small, plump and round, like two ivory globes, or little worlds
of beauty, whereon Love has founded his Empire, command an awful homage
from his vassals, captivate the wondering gazer's eyes, and dart warm
desires into his Soul, that make him languish and melt before the soft
Temptation.</blockquote>
That there's your goal. Now, what to do if you're saddled with large
breasts whose beauty is buried in the grave of uncomeliness? The <em>Ladies' Dictionary</em> is here to help.<br />
<span id="more-9971"></span><br />
<blockquote>
Therefore to reduce those Breasts that hang flagging out
of all comely shape and form, that they may be plump, round and smaller,
bind them up close to you with caps or bags that will just fit them,
and so let them continue for some nights. Then take carrot-seed,
plantain-seeds, aniseeds, fennel-seeds, cumin-seeds, of each two ounces,
virgin's honey an ounce, the juice of plantain and vinegar two ounces
each. Bruise and mingle them well together. Then, unbinding your breast,
spread the composition plaster-wise and lay it on your breasts, binding
them up close as before. After two days and two nights, take off the
plasters and wash your breasts with white wine and rose-water.</blockquote>
Got that? Basically, fashion a fitted homemade bra out of caps or
bags, stuff it with seeds and honey, and marinate in the fruit of your
loom for two days.<br />
Then what?<br />
<blockquote>
In so doing for twelve or fourteen days together, you
will find them reduced to a curious plumpness and charming roundness.
Wash them then with water of Benjamin, and it will not only whiten them,
but make their azure veins appear in all their intricate meanders, till
the Lover in tracing them loses himself.</blockquote>
<em>Whew</em>. Right? Plastic surgeons, take note: This is what those
“After” photos you wallpaper restrooms with should convey. (Minus the
veins, which you will no doubt recommend cauterizing because circulation
is so 1694. Oh, and get better fonts.)<br />
Now that you have your breasts tight, round, and full of blue veins,
you might notice that there's a tad too much pink in your skin tone.
Tricky, this. If your complexion happens to be on the ruddy side, the<em> Ladies' Dictionary </em>must
regrettably advise against the widespread practice of exposing your
face and naked breast to the moon at night, “as if the Moon (because
pale herself) would make them so, or by spitting in their Faces, scour
off the Crimson dye.” This is a silly thing to do, ladies. Dew is
moon-spit. It won't wash your color off, and moontanning isn't a thing.
So ease up on those half-naked midnight strolls.<br />
<strong>Option 2: Go Elizabethan or Go Home!<br />
</strong><br />
Before we consider Option 2, we probably need to clarify a few
things, since our collective understanding of corsets, bodices, busks,
stomachers, stays, smocks, petticoats, and chemises is probably a remix
of<em> The Tudors, Shakespeare in Love</em>, and <em>Blackadder</em>.<br />
So here's a Ladies' Dictionary of our own:<br />
<strong>1. Bodice<br />
</strong><br />
Foundation garment, sometimes the top part of a dress. Think of it as
the foremother of the corset. It literally means “pair of bodies.” If
you're John Donne, you pun dirtily on what that pair of bodies can do.
If you're <a href="http://www.jstor.org/pss/530999" target="_self">Nehemiah Grew</a>,
you use the bodice to explain plant anatomy: “A Flower without its
Empalement, would hang as uncouth and tawdry as a Lady without her
Bodies.” Oh, Nehemiah.<br />
By the same token, bodice-makers are body-makers. True story! There
was a whole debate about how dishonest ladies were being by wearing
bodies that weren't their own. Pictures of surviving bodices (or bodies,
but blech) are <a href="http://www.modehistorique.com/research/Elizabethan%20corsetry.pdf">here</a>. Oh, and sometimes there's a fancy stomacher that covers up the lacing of the bodice if it's in the front. Here's a <a href="http://images.vam.ac.uk/item/O115754/bodice/?print=1">1630s bodice without a stomacher</a>. Here's a <a href="http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O10446/stays-and-busk/">picture of a bodice with a busk</a>.<br />
<strong>2. Busk<br />
</strong><br />
Busks were straight, hard, and erect (!). They were sometimes made of steel or whalebone. Here's<a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/works_of_art/collection_database/the_costume_institute/busk/objectview_altviewzoom.aspx?page=49&sort=0&sortdir=asc&keyword=&fp=1&dd1=8&dd2=0&vw=1&collID=8&OID=80005529&vT=1&iID=4&iPage=1&hi=0&ov=0"> a close-up of one </a>with
a portrait (in case you wanted a young man in your bodice). The busk
went between the breasts, sometimes down below the waist, to keep the
whole body straighter. The twentieth century had those jeans that said
“Lucky You” in the fly; busks said things like “Love joins them” or “The
arrow unites us.” (Get it? The busk is the arrow that unites the
boobs.)<br />
Some busks were downright filthy: “How I envy you the happiness that
is yours, resting softly on her ivory white breast. Let us divide
between us, if you please, this glory. You will be here the day and I
shall be there the night.”<br />
People weren't too happy about busks, partly because they made women
hard and man-like—sort of like putting on a carapace of man-body, and
partly because they were sexy. Stephen Gosson writes in 1596: “The bawdy
busk that keeps down flat / The bed wherein the babe should
breed,” by which he meant that it caused abortions.<br />
<strong>3. Whalebone Stays<br />
</strong><br />
Whalebone usually isn't whalebone. It's baleen, obtained from north
right whales. It was especially useful because it was hard and durable
but also flexible and strong, even when cut into narrow pieces, which
were sometimes called <em>stays</em>.<br />
Those bits, the stays, could be used on children as young as two or
three. Boys and girls. Didn't matter. Their bones were softer, so they
were easier to shape at that age.<br />
<strong>Okay, back to option B: Elizabeth!<br />
</strong><br />
Depending on when you were born, fashion was probably cycling through a
love-hate relationship with geometry. They might try to flatten you into
a triangle or turn you into a cone. Under Elizabeth, busks that
flattened your chest and breasts were all the rage. (The eighteenth
century was really into <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/1973.65.2">hip rectangles</a> for some reason.)<br />
Under your bodice you might wear a smock. Or drawers. Over your
bodice you might wear a dress. Or your bodice might be fancy enough to
stand on its own. Add a busk or stomacher and a skirt, probably with a
fardingale to shape your hips properly, and you're good to go.
Separates!<br />
That's the theory, and it's mostly right. But we're interested in the practice, right?<br />
The crazy thing about Elizabethan fashion is that it did a lot more gender-bending than it ever gets credit for. <a href="http://www.oocities.org/milleldred/donnebusk.html">Sandy Feinstein</a>
points out that under Elizabeth: “women's fashion was in fact little
different in style and design from men's fashion. Women
attempted to imitate the contours of male dress and in so doing
wore the same garments as men, including undergarments—and this
before the advent of trousers. To mention only the most obvious,
stockings, ruffs, and stomachers were worn by both sexes; less
obviously, corsets or bodices.”<br />
It makes sense if you think about it: Elizabeth had to assert
authority, and girding herself in a way that deemphasized feminine
curves seems like one way to do it. For her subjects to follow suit is <em>not surprising</em>: see Kate Middleton for examples of how we plebes respond to royal fashion.<br />
People's reactions to these whiffs of androgyny were mixed.<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barnabe_Rich"> Barnaby Rich</a>
points out that the function of the busk was “to straighten a
lascivious body.” Others were less convinced that the lasciviousness was
in check. Take <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_Boyle,_1st_Viscount_Shannon">Viscount Francis Boyle Shannon</a>, who's miffed that ladies have taken to wearing young men's doublets: <em>now they're coming for the breeches too</em>:<br />
<blockquote>
“And for the breeches most of our young Sparks, and some
of the old Fops have lost them also, being generally given by our
Gallants to their Mistresses, and by the mere Country Gentlemen to their
Wives, which by the by, is a new Mode that contradicts the old law: to
confound the Habits of several sexes. So that if our women increase thus
in power, and our men continue so in folly, 'tis very probable that
those of the next age may see our English modists pictured as they do
Truth, that's naked.</blockquote>
In short, having tried on a little androgyny, women were going all
the way and starting to wear men's clothes. And swords. And cutting
their hair short. These were the roaring girls. (There's<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Roaring_Girl"> a play about one</a>, and it's awesome.)<br />
Now, if you're wondering about the male side of fashion, the male
version of the busk/bodice was the doublet. The Elizabethan peascod was
designed to make men's stomachs look sexily huge and round. They usually
had to stuff a bunch of fabric in there to fill out the silhouette, and
sometimes they had to stuff their hose with bran to make their thighs
look less skinny. This all started in the sixteenth-century, when the
gents followed the ladies' example and busked themselves on up. Partly,
Feinstein thinks, because they saw the new lady-silhouette as a
masculine “outer shell”:<br />
<blockquote>
The corset as a protective device embodies masculine
associations; morally in danger of man, it is as if woman puts on the
man over her vulnerable womanhood, which is, however, preserved—indeed
exaggerated—beneath. The very act of hardening and stiffening
herself, which is on one level defensive, becomes a militant form of
transference to herself of masculine eroticism.</blockquote>
So the bodice was a way for you to put on a man-carapace. Feinstein
also says that “while busks may have been associated with sex appeal,
and … prostitution, it was apparently also feared that they enabled
women not only to look like "gallants" but act like them as well: that
is, women might have felt freer to have sex if they thought they could
guard against pregnancy.”<br />
The Elizabethan torso, in other words, wasn't just conical and
restrictive (which it was). It was also badass and a form of built-in
birth control. Elizabeth took clothes and what they signified seriously.
Fun fact: she empowered officers to break swords that violated the
length limit and trim runaway ruffs. Here's Anne Hollander's description
of the Elizabethan female body (OMG “very little width of beam”):<br />
<blockquote>
Broad hips were apparently of little interest in the
erotic conception of the female torso; the sixteenth-century nude shows
very little width of beam, just as she shows very little swell or
droop of breast. Vertically extended expanses of belly and thigh were
still the favorite nude- female landscapes, and breasts and buttocks
were seen as subsidiary attendants of these. In general the female body
of the High Renaissance appears to have been conceived as a long,
large stomach stretching from the collarbone to the crotch, with breasts
the shadowiest of swellings visible chiefly because of the placement
of the nipples.</blockquote>
<strong>Option 3. Embrace the Curvy Seventeenth Century.<br />
</strong><br />
In the seventeenth century, things started to move away from the
“straight” Elizabethan fashion and toward serious curves. This is the
beginning of the corset fashion we know. Here's how the<em> Ladies' Dictionary</em> describes what ladies do in the mornings after fixing their hair:<br />
<blockquote>
Then they begin to commit their body to a close
Imprisonment, and pinch it in so narrow a compass that the best part of
its plumpness is forced to rise toward the Neck to emancipate it self
from such hard Captivity. And, being grown of her liberty, appears with a
kind of pleasant briskness, which becomes her infinitely. As for her
fair Breasts, they are half-imprisoned and half free; and do their
utmost endeavour to procure their absolute liberty by shoving back that
which veils the one half, but they are too weak to effect it, and whilst
they strive to free themselves they cast over a veil, which perfectly
hides them. The desire they have to be exposed to view, makes them beat
it back.</blockquote>
If you're surprised by how hard these breasts are fighting to procure their absolute liberty, don't worry. [<strong>Spoiler alert!</strong>] They shall overcome.<br />
In the meantime, let's absorb a little more crankiness about womanly artifice. Here's the <em>Ladies' Dictionary </em>entry for “Pride”:<br />
<blockquote>
Our men are grown so effeminate, and our women so
man-like, that (if it might be) I think they would exchange genders.
What modest eye can with patience behold the immodest gestures and
attires of our women? No sooner with them, is infancy put on, but
impudency is put on: they have turned Nature into Art; so that a man can
hardly discern a woman from her image. Their bodies they pinch in, as
if they were angry with Nature, for casting them in so gross a mould:
but as for their looser parts, them they let loose, to prey upon
whatsoever, their last darting eyes shall seize upon. Their breasts,
they lay to the open view, like two fair Apples, of which whosoever
tasteth, shall be sure of the knowledge of evil, of good I dare not
warrant him.</blockquote>
Ladies. Those ivory globes aren't flattened any more. They're pushed
up and on display, they're apples, and the waists, they're pinched way
in, and now all the wobbly bits are extra-wobbly and you can't tell
what's real and what isn't! A hundred years after Elizabeth and still
the men are woman-like and the women are man-like, except for their
aggressive apples, with which they will damn your immortal soul.<br />
The men aren't the only ones distressed by the new trend towards tiny waists. The writer of another guide,<em> The Gentlewoman's Companion</em> (we think the author was Hannah Wooley), argues that mothers would never do it if they understood the consequences.<br />
<blockquote>
Did they know how speedily and willfully they destroy you
by girding your tender bodies, certainly they would prove kinder
Mothers than be your cruel murderers. For by this means they reduce your
bodies into such pinching-extremities, that it engenders a stinking
breath; and by cloistering you up in a Steel or Whale-bone-prison, they
open a door to Consumptions, with many other dangerous inconveniences,
as crookedness: for Mothers striving to have their daughters' bodies
small in the middle, do pluck and draw their bones awry, for the
ligatures of the back being very tender at that age, and soft and moist,
with all the Muscles, do easily slip aside. Thus Nurses, whilst they
too straitly do lace the breasts and sides of children on purpose to
make them slender, do occasion the breast-bone to cast it self aside,
whereby one shoulder doth become bigger and fuller than the other.</blockquote>
Don't get any ideas, though. The <em>Gentlewoman's Companion</em>
isn't saying you shouldn't have any laces at all. You need some
whalebone, or else you'll let yourself go loose like the fake-fat
Venetians who don't lace and want to be fat and stuff their garments so
they'll look fatter.<br />
<blockquote>
Though I would not have too great a restriction laid on
your bodies, yet I would not have them by inconsiderate looseness run
out into a deformed corpulency, like the Venetian-Ladies, who seldom
lace themselves at all, accounting it an excellency in proportion to be
round and full-bodied: and that they may attain that (merely supposed)
comeliness, if Nature incline them not to be somewhat gross or
corpulent, they will use art, by counterfeiting that fulness of body, by
the fullness of garments.</blockquote>
There is a happy medium, the <em>Gentlewoman's Companion</em> says. And you might be thinking to yourself that you know what that looks like. Maybe it looks something like this:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-9997" height="341" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-robert-carr-earl-of-somerset-and-his-countess-c-1615.jpg" title="Robert Carr Earl of Somerset and His Countess c 1615" width="590" /><br />
Or like this:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-9998" height="336" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-henrietta-hyde.jpg" title="Henrietta Hyde" width="277" /><br />
And you're probably guessing that all the gents who objected to the
Elizabethan fashion, which they found overly “manly,” would be pleased
with the new rage for curves. And you'd be right. But you'd also be
wrong.<br />
There is a new development, you see.<br />
<strong>Invasion of the Booby-Snatchers<br />
</strong><br />
“We find by lamentable, if I may not say fatal, Experience, that the the world too much allows nakedness in Women.”<br />
That's the first line of the “Naked Breasts” entry of the <em>Ladies' Dictionary.</em><br />
Uh oh.<br />
“There is always danger in attentively looking upon a Naked Breast,
and there is not only a great danger, but a kind of Crime in beholding
it with attention in the Churches.”<br />
Well, indeed.<br />
“If we cannot prevent this disorder, let us strive with him to make
these women know how great their fault is in coming to church in such
undecent habit, and if I may presume to say, so as it were half naked.
Do you come to the house of God as to a Ball?”<br />
Well? <em>Do</em> you?<br />
As you're probably gathering, there's a crisis in the offing. Breasts
were scary when they were strapped down, but now, instead of carrying
swords, the ladies are just using their Dementor-boobs, which is so much
worse. And they know it, the hussies.<br />
“Surely then they cannot be exempt from blame who do show their
breasts and shoulders at so extreme a rate, since they cannot possibly
be ignorant that that nakedness must needs be much more powerful than
words to excite the motions of Concupiscence. For who does not know that
the eyes are the Guides of Love, and that it is through them that it
most commonly steals into our souls?”<br />
It gets worse, guys. Your boobs? <em>They can talk.</em><br />
“A naked breast and bare shoulders are continually speaking to our
hearts, in striking and wounding our Eyes; and their language, as dumb
as it is, is so much the more dangerous as it is not understood but by
the mind, and the mind is pleased with the understanding it.”<br />
Necks talk too!<br />
“The beauty of a neck which is presented to our eyes hath nothing but
what attracts and allures us, and as it does not cease speaking to us
in its way and manner, nor cease soliciting us, and being pleasing to
us, it at last triumphs over our liberty, after it has abused and
betrayed our senses.”<br />
Dangerous things, necks. But not as dangerous as bosoms:<br />
“Men do very well know how dangerous it is to look upon a naked
bosom, and your vain and light women are sensible how advantageous it is
to them to show it.”<br />
What's worse, the ladies are thinking of their own breasts, and the
men—well, the men get hypnotized into thinking that the breasts are a
sort of shorthand for the entire body.<br />
<blockquote>
The idea of their breasts does not less enter into their
imagination than into that of the men, who consider it attentively, and
commend it, [<em>Ed. I love that they consider the breasts attentively and commend them</em>]
and … join the idea of all the Body to that of their breasts, being
persuaded that they shew the beauty of the one to make that of the other
be better judged of.</blockquote>
Things get weirder, guys. I give you The Address to the Nipple for the Sake of Your Immortal Soul:<br />
“Dainty Nipples (said that excellent Moralist to a wanton Gallants)
why do ye so labour to tempt and take deluded eyes? Must not poor
wormelins one day tug you? Must those enazured orbs for ever retaine
their beauty?”<br />
Your beauty will fade, nipple! Your spectacular blue-veined breast will someday decay, and worms will eat you! REPENT!<br />
If you're like me, you were surprised to see the address to the
nipple. For obvious reasons. But also because, for all this talk of
“naked breasts,” you assumed that was hyperbole. The prudery of the age.
Naked breasts. Ha. That's just cleavage, clearly. Right?<br />
Wrong.<br />
I give you the Duchess of Monmouth:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-9999" height="335" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-duchess-of-monmouth.jpg" title="Duchess of Monmouth" width="453" /><br />
I raise you the Buxom Virgin:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10000" height="483" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-pepys-3-209.jpg" title="Pepys" width="464" /><br />
I'll add the Countess of Somerset:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10001" height="582" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-Countess-of-Somerset.jpg" title="Countess of Somerset" width="402" /><br />
Mix it with a pinch of:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10002" height="393" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-The-Westminster-Madams-Lamentation.jpg" title="The Westminster Madams Lamentation" width="378" /><br />
a drop of:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10003" height="356" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairping-bra-ebba-image-pepys-3-230.jpg" title="Ebba Image Pepys" width="397" /><br />
and a dollop of:<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10004" height="317" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/hairpin-bra-ebba-image-confident-ladies-town-miss-boobs.jpg" title="Ebba Image Confident Ladies Town Miss Boobs" width="527" /><br />
And you will see a hitherto unsuspected option emerge (ahem).<br />
<strong>Option 4: Go bare.<br />
</strong><br />
Behold the seventeenth-century moment in which it was the fashion to let
the nips fly free. The real moral of my Renaissance Faire experience is
that I did it right. If you're a fashion-forward seventeenth-century
woman, you pull 'em out of the dress and enjoy.<br />
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-10006" height="613" src="http://thehairpin.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Picture-110.jpg" title="Picture 1" width="550" /><br />
<small>Images courtesy of the English Broadside Ballad Archive and the British Museum. Spelling and punctuation has been modernized.</small><br />
<br />
<small> </small><b>**This article is not mine. It was written by Lili Loofbourow for TheHairpin. The original may be found <a href="http://thehairpin.com/2011/07/the-17th-century-breastoration-a-time-before-bras/">here</a>. I have not altered it in any way nor do I claim any ownership of it.</b><br />
</div>LivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1097700036874401884.post-45898412969703668122012-05-23T22:37:00.002-06:002012-05-24T05:03:51.123-06:00I have been in a moderate large Room, where there have been but two Ladies, who had not enough space to move without lifting up their Petticoats higher than their Grandmother's would have thought decent.<br /><br />-- A contributer to <span style="font-style: italic;">The London Magazine</span>, 1741, on the subject of panniersLivingWithGhostshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541259413335347020noreply@blogger.com0