Skip to main content

Posts

Meanwhile, somewhere in 18th century...

...England (or, in fact, anywhere) things are going-on in parallel to a story I am writing.  Perhaps these things will make their way into the story, but in my mind they are going on even if they don't get a mention.  This research will add depth to the story and characters.  Who am I kidding?   This is a miscellany of distractions I have found that have piqued my interest while I should have been more efficient in my research for a story set mid 18th century.  Perhaps you have a general interest in the eighteenth century, an obsession with it, or you too are looking for detail to add authenticity to your fiction.  For whatever reason you have stumbled upon my notes.  I hope they interest and amuse. You may already know, from reading texts written in the 1700s, that an additional s was used in print as well as the standard s .  The long s looks like an f without its crossbar. Also, you will probably work out from context, that etcetera is ...
Post a Comment
Read more
Recent posts

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Siege of Fort St. Philip...

 ... two British soldiers are killed by carelessness and one injured by bad luck. A lucky shot from the French, grazes the touch-hole of a British cannon.  The cannon must have been loaded and ready to go, just needing to be turned towards the enemy and having fire put to the touch-hole.  The enemy shot must have caused a spark as it grazed the touch-hole, thus firing the gun which injured a British soldier. We shouldn't rush to award either of the following dead soldiers with the Darwin Award, for we do not know if either of them were responsible for sponging the gun.  Sponging is done between one firing and the next.  The aim is to remove any smouldering matter in the gun before the next charge is shoved in.  If not done well, the new charge can ignite before time, as happened to the two unfortunate British soldiers in the excerpt above. 1756
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in a deep slumber...

...lies a slug-a-bed.  This 18th century drone is in dire need of a marvelous 1754 contraption, snappily christened the Rush-Light Larum .  A rush-light being a rudimentary candle and larum meaning alarm.  As you can see from the diagram: when the candle burns down to the point calculated to be wake up o'clock , a heavy weight is dropped which can either drag the bedclothes off or yank whichever appendage of the sleeper it is tied to. and if that does't work, then the ensuing blaze, caused by the sleeper turning over in bed and dragging the whole apparatus onto the floor, will serve as sufficient larum.
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in Poland...

 ...co kurwa?  Where does Poland begin and end?  The border has shifted all over the place! In the 18th century, there is a Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.  Its borders encompass Lithuania, much of Latvia, Belarus, a good chunk of Ukraine and much of the Poland we know and love.  Prussia has left teeth-marks on the Baltic coast and the western border wiggles around a bit and is generally a little further east.  Słupsk, Koszalin, Szczecin, and Wrocław fall outside the border, but Gdańsk, Piła, Poznań and Katowice are within the Commonwealth.   One administrative area of the Commonwealth, of culinary and linguistic interest to me, is: województwo ruskie, the Ruthenian Voivodeship.  It's capital was Lwów, or Lviv as we know it today, and much of it is now in Ukraine.  The dumplings filled with potato, cheese curd and onion, take their name from wój. ruskie, so pierogi ruskie  were named after this area of the commonwealth and have noth...
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in Prussia...

...Catherine the Great is born.  Greatness to come later, she was born Princess Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg on the 2nd of May  1729 in Stettin, Pomerania.  At this point, Stettin, is in Prussia, part of the Roman Holy Empire.  Today it is know as Szczecin which, you may already know, is in Poland. Her native tongue was German, but she became fluent in French, essential for hob-nobbing with the elite of 18th century Europe.  She first met her second cousin, Peter, when she was 10 and found him loathsome.  Peter later became Peter III of Russia.  Despite Princess Sophie's dislike of Peter and that fact that Peter's mother  (The Empress Elizabeth of Russia) disliked Sophie's mother, the Empress took a shine to Princess Sophie.  The Princess had worked hard to master the Russian language and converted to the Eastern Orthodox church in 1744 and took on the name Ekaterina Alekseyevna. She married Peter in 1745 . Peter succ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in Yorkshire...

 ... on a Monday - Monday 15th May 1749 to be precise - a fireball passes through a room of people. Apparently such an everyday occurrence of 18th century Yorkshire, that there's no further discussion of what the hell just happened or whether it occurred during the cheese course, thus bringing fondue to Yorkshire a good two centuries early.
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in 18th century England...

...in January 1747, some adventurous cove is fannying around with electricity.  I guess J. Smeaton got some form of precursor to a Van der Graaf generator in his Christmas stocking.  I imagine there were other members of the household willingly, or otherwise, employed in assisting Mr. Smeaton in his experimentation.  I am not sure suspending an anvil by silk cords is an easy task for one man.
Post a Comment
Read more

Meanwhile, somewhere in 18th century London, people are dying from the small pox...

...and hemorroids.  There's a macabre fascination with the stated causes of deaths and the proportions of death from each cause.  As we are looking at the eighteenth century, it will be of little surprise that small pox claimed many lives, 1206 deaths by small pox in an annual report of deaths in London.  That's more than ten times as many as those who died of mortification.  My image of a lady seeing another at the ball in an identical gown and snuffing it on the spot was ruined by reading that mortification is localized death of tissue, like in gangrene.   The French Pox was clearly too busy talking about art and philosophy so only chalked up 76 deaths.  One poor sod died of piles, 46 from cancer, 99 drowned, one nervous soul was frightened to death, 3 murdered, only 5 slovenly people made the effort to die of lethargy and, in what I imagine was a freak carpeting accident, 80 people were overlaid.
Post a Comment
Read more