Monthly Archives: April 2019

Weather Forecasting: An English Virtue

Meteorology: the seasons, autumn. Engraving by A. Collaert . Credit: Wellcome Collection.

One of the readings from our class’s seminar caught my attention as an exciting topic to observe from the perspective of an early modern household. The suggested reading was a chapter within the first book of The English Husbandman (1635) by the prolific writer on domestic advice, Gervase Markham. As you can probably guess from the title, the chapter was regarding, ‘… other vertues, as namely how he shall judge and foreknow all kinde of weather and other seasons of the yeare.’ The reason it was of interest was due to the lack of consideration I had placed on weather and seasonal predictions with its specific relevance to the household, before this source. The revelations described by Markham and my own personal curiosity have led me to comment on why this ‘skill’ was something husbandmen would aim to possess.

Defining the fore-telling of the seasons and weather as a ‘vertue’ and devoting a whole chapter to this skill shows the importance Markham placed upon a man’s ability to know the future climate. Initially, this seemed strange, referring to weather watching and season prediction as a virtue in early modern England. I presumed the accuracy and belief in weather prediction would have been minimal in a society which had yet to enter the period of scientific enlightenment. However, the specific instructions Markham presents to predict weather and seasons suggests that ordinary husbandmen had some investment in these beliefs which to the modern reader appear incredibly abstract. It required the husbandman to be in tune with the natural world around him, relying on cues in the environment.

The English Husbandman (1635) p. 19.

One method which was used before the emergence of the barometer in the late 17th Century was natural astrological theory, judging the weather by looking at the celestial bodies.[1] These movements and the weather produced from them were believed to be directly linked to human physiology.[2] The renaissance revival in the humoral theory connected the weather conditions and more specifically astrology to effects on bodily fluids.[3]This mirroring was a key aspect of Markham’s weather and season predictions. The latter part of the chapter concerns the reactions a husbandman should have to the prediction of a poor year in health, rather than solely foretelling weather as the title suggests, Markham integrates monthly medical intervention with general observations which impacted on agricultural wealth. (See example above)

The other technique which Markham gives the husbandman for long term weather forecasting was using the weather experienced during the first twelve days of Christmas as a guide to the weather over the whole year, each day corresponding to each month. This was a conventional technique used in Western Europe, although the first day of observations varied regionally, with some nations choosing the New Year to mark the monthly weather.[4] This would have been a simple way for a husbandman to predict monthly weather patterns. It would have been more accessible to the ordinary man compared to the astrological practices which could be sophisticated and require calculations.[5] Nonetheless, the visible celestial changes such as moon phases and eclipses were expected to be observed under Markham’s instruction. This popular astrology could indirectly influence mortality through the weather changes; it was advisable to take note.

The English Husbandman (1635) p. 16.

Agricultural society in this period was vulnerable to adverse weather conditions, extremes in seasons could result in reduced crop yields, and traditional farming methods did not have a way to protect against these or absorb the losses adequately. Knowledge of weather would have been useful for planning, to prevent or promote the available farming methods. A good understanding of weather would lay the foundation for successful agricultural practices and allow the husbandman to hone his skills on the later parts of the book, such as planting, grafting and harvesting.

The majority of the advice given seems extremely rational and practical for the English husbandman, such when to expect ‘good yeares’ by observing where frosts fell, and plants bloomed at certain times during the year.

A woodcut representing one month from the peotry work by Edmund Spenser, “The shepheards calender : conteining twelue æglogues proportionable to the twelue monthes : entituled, to the noble and vertuous gentleman, most worthie of all titles, both of learning and chiualry, Maister Philip Sidney” (London, 1591) p.55. Credit: Internet Archive Book Images

Ordinary early modern families were reliant upon favourable weather conditions to ensure they avoided spells of dearth and famine. Weather could, therefore, be something which determined life and death for many communities. Knowledge of weather and changes of the season’s patterns and adapting to future weather would have been extremely desirable in this period. Finding ways to harness the natural world would give the husbandman some feeling of control. In times when people were susceptible to serious illness having some forward knowledge on the health of your family to plan for sickness would have been beneficial, even if the source of such knowledge was questionable. In hindsight, the importance Markham places on weather knowledge is reasonable; we take accurate weather forecasting for granted in the modern world.

Luckily the stakes are not as high in today’s society. Nonetheless, it is interesting to see the importance of weather prediction in this period. Perhaps the fact that some of these weather beliefs still exist shows how ingrained the confidence in personal weather forecasting is in the English psyche.

[1] Jan Golinski, ‘Barometers of Change: Meteorological Instruments as Machines of Enlightenment’ in William Clark, Jan Golinski and Simon Schaffer (eds.), The Science of enlightened Europe (Chicago, 1999), p. 82.

[2]Patrick Curry, Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England (Princeton, 1989), p. 23.

[3]Golinski, ‘Barometers of Change’, p. 70.

[4] Stephen Wilson, The Magical Universe: everyday ritual and magic in premodern Europe (London, 2000), p. 53.

[5]Curry, Prophecy and Power, p. 11.

Technology and the downfall of Recipe Books

Times have changed with the advancement of technology, and practically anything can be found on the internet. In the early modern historical period the internet evidently did not exist; books were the principal source for finding information to any questions that one needed to know. Books were available on how to cultivate land, grow food and recipes ranging from food to medicine. But has the advancement in technology meant that recipe books are a thing of the past?

Technology such as the internet has made accessing recipes to be at the click of a button; you can search ‘recipes’ into google and find yourself with over 2.6 Billion sites worth of recipes. In the past the equivalent of this would be a recipe book, which would be passed down through many generations within a family. The Johnson Family recipe book was written between the years 1694 to 1831, with hundreds of distinct recipes that also include medicinal recipes.

The Johnson Family Recipe Book 1694-1831.

Recipe books in family households were passed down through generations; the different handwriting shows how many authors were involved in the making of one recipe book. The Johnson Family recipe book had a continuous change of calligraphy; the writing at the beginning of the book is not the same as the last page in the book. The recipe book also holds sentimental value; ‘Elizabeth Phillips’ is the first name to appear, then it is written ‘Elizabeth Johnson the gift of her Mother Johnson’[1]. The handing down of a recipe book makes it an heirloom, where generation after generation was able to include their own recipes that future generations could try.

Technology has made the sentimental value and worth of recipe books almost disappear. People now no longer need to keep a copy of a recipe, as they can always find the recipe they need by searching for it on the internet. Although it has also allowed for others to share their most special family recipes, one that springs to mind that I have attempted is from Pasta Grannies. They are able to use the internet to share recipes they learned from their mothers and grandmothers. Family recipes are now able to reach all ends of the earth, rather than stay in one family household recipe book.

An example of medicine recipes.

Recipe books were critical in the everyday life, especially for when a person fell sick. Medicinal recipes were used in the hopes to cure people; if it worked then it would be recorded in a book and the recipe would not be lost. A medicinal recipe could be found between food recipes; ‘A salve for any soare but chiefly for a burning sore’ recipe was written following a ‘To make short cakes‘ recipe[2]. By having the medical recipes in-between food recipes shows just how vital and essential it was for people to keep a record of the recipe cures. However, with the advancement of technology, we are also able to find remedies online for common illnesses; there even are online doctors that can diagnose our symptoms! Thus the requirement no longer exists to hold onto recipes that can cure our illnesses.     

An example of a ‘good’ approval on a recipe.

When you look at a recipe book you may notice little squiggles around the recipes. These squiggles are in fact notes which vary from asserting that a recipe is ‘good’ (and even better if they have a tick next to the ‘good’). To even the disapproval of other recipes represented by being crossed out of the recipe book; ‘to make Goosbery Viniger’ in the Johnson Family recipe book was edited to be improved, but in the end crossed out of the recipe book. In some recipes, tips are included of what was done to improve a recipe. A Johnson family member found to perfect making ‘boiled sydar’ you need to have ‘16 pound of pouder sugar to a hogs head’ [3]. This is no different to online recipes’ comment sections, where comments are filled with approval or disapproval of people who have tried the recipes.  Some even offer advice on how to improve recipes by adding or removing ingredients, just like in recipe books.

Recipe books hold significant value, as we are still continuing to use them, this includes both in food and medicine especially. We no longer have to keep a record of recipes, as we can find any recipe through technology; which has meant in the loss of recipe books being written in the modern day. Technology has allowed for the creation of apps such as ‘Food Network’, which allows you to store your favourite food recipes; thus having a large book filled with recipes would be inconvenient. Let me know what you think, are recipe books a thing of the past?      

[1] Wellcome Library. Johnson Family recipe book (MS3082) London, 1694-1831  

[2] LUNA: Folger Manuscript Transcriptions Collection, Medicinal and cookery recipes [manuscript]. (124205) Complicated ca, 1625-1725

[3] Wellcome Library. Johnson Family recipe book (MS3082) London, 1694-1831

From Private to Public: What has Happened to Private Libraries?

After our class visit to Special Collections, which was both eye opening and better than I ever imagined it would be, I could not help but wonder what has caused such a decline in the popularity of private libraries. I began to consider why people would have had private libraries within their homes in the early modern period and who these people would have been. I spoke to my nan, as I do about every thought that crosses my mind more than once, and asked her opinion on what she thought about these types of collections of books that seem to be a rarity in today’s society. I can clearly remember as a child that my nan and grandad had quite a large collection of books in their home that largely revealed their personalities and interests. There was a mixture of different types of books from cookery books to guides on war medals, children’s fiction, autobiographies and some travel guides for various parts of the world. I reflected on the similarities and differences between this type of collection and those that I saw in special collections that belonged to the Russell family. The Russell Collection also contained a variant of genres including literature, travel, sport and law and, similarly to my grandparent’s collection of books, reflected the interests of the family themselves.[1]In contrast to my grandparents relatively small collection of books, the Russell’s family library is rather extensive for a private library and sheds light on the status and wealth of the family to own so many books that would have been a considerable cost at the time.


https://www.essex.ac.uk/departments/language-and-linguistics/research

I then began to question why a family of a certain status would have had a private library at all and what the books would have meant to them in accordance to the purpose that they served. From the module readings on private libraries it became quite clear that books were used, as they are today, for a variety of activities and this changed and developed over time. For example, by the sixteenth century, books were being kept more frequently and carefully by certain members of early modern society. This is evident in Hannah Murphy’s article which discusses the physician Georg Palma’s private library and how this, along with other similar private libraries and collections, have influenced archives and accessible documents today.[2]While Murphy’s article solely comments on the private libraries of medical professionals of the time, she sheds light on the importance of the condition of the books and how this shaped medicine in later years as well as the reflections it provides on the physician’s career itself. She comments, “Owning a book did not mean that it had earned a stamp of approval. It did not necessarily even mean that it had been read… Palma was a dutiful reader… A well-read book in his library is easily spotted.”.[3]

The importance of books and reading during this period was unmistakable but I delved further into readings on the eighteenth century to try and distinguish whether reading for leisure was something that was just as much a part of society as it is today. From an initial reading of Naomi Tadmor’s article I would have concluded that reading for leisure was most certainly prominent in early modern society. However, from a second reading it cannot be ignored that reading, whether for leisure or another purpose, was very much limited to a certain sector of society as it had been in previous centuries before. Tadmore focuses on women’s experiences of reading during this time but discusses, in her selected cases of two families, the husband’s experience also.[4]Alongside these experiences which are brought to life through diaries kept by the husband’s within the family, Tadmore identifies four key reasons as to why people, from a considerably average social status, would have read at this time; these were, “reading was part of a daily routine which consisted mostly of hard work. Secondly, reading was part of a religious discipline. Thirdly, reading was part of a social life, and, fourthly, reading was done intermittently”.[5]These reasons for reading, in my opinion, reflect extraordinarily in regard to why books were purchased in this period and what they meant to individuals within the family as well as the family as a whole. While not everyone had the opportunity to have a private library in their home, alongside the fact that a large number of the population could not read very well or at all, for those who did have access to books they were both personal and a gateway for socialization within a family. 

Mr Richardson, reading the Manuscript of Sir Charles Grandison in 1751 to his Friends. Cambridge, University Library, Nn.49.2

Using this experience and knowledge of private libraries, and reflecting on the lack of them today, it is rather sad that such a disinterest in books seems to be apparent in modern society. As someone who was read to frequently growing up and reads for enjoyment today, a visit to special collections is surely enough to spark an excitement and interest once more in private libraries as to have such a treasured collection is surely priceless! 


Bibliography:

[1]Library Services <https://library.essex.ac.uk/c.php?g=664204&p=4698553#s-lg-box-wrapper-17338635>University of Essex, <https://www.essex.ac.uk> [accessed 3rdApril 2019]

[2]N. Tadmore, “In the even my wife read to me’: women, reading and household life in the eighteenth century”, in J. Raven, N. Tadmore & H. Small, eds. The practice and representation of reading in England (Cambridge, 1996) pp. 162-174

[3]Tadmore, “In the even my wife read to me” p. 166

[4]H. Murphy “Common Places and Private Spaces: Libraries, Record-Keeping and Orders of Information in Sixteenth-Century Medicine”, Past & Present 230 (2016) pp. 253-268

[5]Murphy, “Common Places and Private Spaces”, pp. 259,260

May I Check These Books Out?

Visiting the Special Collections at the Albert Sloan Library in the University of Essex was an eye-opening and fresh experience for me. It’s not everyday that you encounter centuries-old books and I was looking forward to seeing (and smelling) these ancient books. You know that musty old book smell that some secondhand book stores have? That was what I was expecting when we were ushered into the collections. However, I was sorely mistaken and now that I think about it, I really should have known better than to think that the books in this precious collection would be allowed to deteriorate enough to produce that musty smell. As I oh-so-carefully drew a book out from its place on the shelf and flipped through its pages, I was in awe at the structural integrity of the books. Its robustness honestly surprised me, not to mention the pages that were hardly yellowed or fragile, unlike my books left out for a year or two in the sun and humidity. The quality of the paper that was produced centuries ago made me question the quality we have now, although I suppose that is the difference between tedious manual labour and convenient mass production. It also led me to question if books were then the domain of the wealthier class, for they must not have been cheap to obtain. Literacy was also limited to a lucky few in Britain then, so the people who were able to purchase these books, to read and write in them, must have been from the upper strata of society.

My curiosity about the methods of conservation and preservation of these books brought me to the Parliamentary Archives Collection Care team. On their website, they outline some measures such as the application of preventative methods, the provision of ideal environmental conditions, careful handling, and collection management. Books would contain mostly organic materials like paper and leather (perhaps in the book covers or binding) would seem to require the utmost circumspection.[1] The Parliamentary Archives stores collections at a tight range of humidity and temperature levels, but I am unclear if the Special Collections in the Albert Sloan Library are stored at the same standards. Books that were received in particularly bad condition or are rapidly deteriorating would be subject to “’minimal intervention’ techniques, such as re-attaching a book board to a binding, or for more serious cases…‘full intervention’ techniques, such as re-sewing broken down sewing that holds the gatherings of a book together in the cover (binding), or repairing holes and tears in a paper/parchment document”[2]. This left me wondering if any of the books I had thumbed through had been restored in some way or another, but without a trace such that the original integrity remains.

Olfactory stimulation aside, the first thing that struck me visually as I lay my eyes upon the rows of books lined up on the shelves was how nondescript they were. The book spines were plain, the colours earthy, and the external design rather homogenous, requiring close observation to identify the differences. Occasionally, the edges of the paper are printed with a pattern that some may find familiar.

I often see this pattern in the scrapbooking section of my local arts and craft store and was surprised to see it had lasted through the ages. Some others have a pattern that reminds me of what I might see through the microscope.

Nonetheless, their unassuming exteriors actually conceal treasures. Some books feature such exquisite and intricate pull out maps, not unlike the geographical maps we might see in travel guides and fantasy novels these days. It is a thrill to see a city that may no longer exist by its former name and imagine the landscape and scenery. The maps also illustrate the forms of printmaking that were in practice.

Some of these books were printed, while some were handwritten. The printed versions naturally indicated that the books were meant for wide distribution, hence the necessity for mass-printed copies that take less time to produce. An example here illustrates the proper manner of eating.

The contents of these books surely reveal the matters that were of concern in society at that time as well, such as witchcraft in England. On the other hand, the handwritten books typically lend a more personal and palpable tone to these historical archives. Yes, a lot of them are banal records of a household’s spending, or a town’s records of births, deaths, and marriages, but these are all testimony to lives lived, and are such important contributions to developing a nuanced understanding of a different time.

This all ultimately begs the question: what gets remembered and what gets forgotten? Of course there is the matter of what was lost in the many years that have passed between the creation of the book and now, but if a book does reach the hands of a decisionmaker, how might they determine if it is important enough to be conserved? Berger discusses some of the factors that might affect this decision, as it would involve “deciding the value of an item to the collection today and hypothesizing its value to the cultural record some years from now”.[3] The factors include the “extent of damage, amount of use, content, artifactual value, rarity, and market value, among others” and it becomes necessary to create a kind of ethical code and selection policy. [4] It is all a rather risky business to me as judging if the content and value of a book is important can be influenced by the prevailing beliefs in society. Should the words of a woman for example be deemed frivolous in a particular time and therefore be left to disappear with time, people in the later years would never even have realized the loss of a whole world and perspective. I think this issue is an increasingly complex one as we progress into a digital age where there is an overwhelming amount of data to sieve through to decide what should be preserved. There are all new formats and topics whose cultural importance are not yet obvious, and it would certainly be a pity and a headache for future historians if valuable information is lost in this teething period.


[1] Parliament of the United Kingdom, “Collection Care”, Preservation and Access, <https://www.parliament.uk/business/publications/parliamentary-archives/who-we-are/preservation-and-access/collection-care/>, [accessed 1 April 2019].

[2] Parliament, “Collection Care”, <https://www.parliament.uk/business/publications/parliamentary-archives/who-we-are/preservation-and-access/collection-care/>, [accessed 1 April 2019].

[3] Sherri Burger, “The Evolving Ethics of Preservation: Redefining Practices and              Responsibilities in the 21st Century”, The Serials Librarian,57 (2009), pp. 57-68, doi: 10.1080/03615260802669086, pp. 60.

[4] Burger, “The Evolving Ethics of Preservation: Redefining Practices and Responsibilities in the 21st Century”, pp. 60.

Collecting Knowledge and Family Secrets.

In the modern world, spending time in the kitchen and developing new methods and recipes for cooking has somewhat diminished – with many preferring the sociability and immediate readiness presented by restaurants and fast-food establishments. With so much choice and a wide-range of cuisine styles, it is easy to see why but whilst we are spoilt for choice, are we depriving ourselves of the same choices and styles in our own kitchens?

Elaine Leong’s article on collecting knowledge has made me consider what culinary secrets my family may hold, if any and why such knowledge has not been passed down to me as readily as it may have been for a first-born daughter in an early modern household. Leong explains that the family worked as a collective and that no one member was exempt from contributing to the pages of what would become a family book, dedicated to food recipes and medicinal recipes for the curing or relief from ailments but also of lineage and family history. [1] Whilst I can’t imagine my parents keeping such records, as they too prefer the efficiency of modern-day dining and have the luxury of modern healthcare, I thought of my nan, who seems to always be hand-preparing food for our visits.

Upon speaking with her, I soon came to the realisation that whilst early modern households preferred the handwritten sources of knowledge, my Nan retained hers internally. When I questioned her on any potential family recipes passed down from her mother and Nan she simply replied with “It’s all in my head. I remember because I watched my mother do it so often, it just became something ingrained.” To my surprise she also told me that she had never measured anything and that written recipes, because of their reliance on measurements, were better thought of rather than written down – as by reading them, you felt restricted to follow them precisely. Instead she judges her quantities based on visual appearance – something else she attributes to watching her mother closely in the kitchen. All the recipes she then went on to give examples of tended to be those of the dessert type – puddings and cakes.

When I questioned her further on why she had never passed down the knowledge to my mother, she simply replied that it was because she didn’t need it and had never asked or showed an interest in collecting the knowledge. My mother, whilst she cooks many fresh and homey meals, does not tend to make things such as bread and puddings from scratch – which is mainly since they are so cheaply and readily available in the supermarkets pre-made. Modern-day families tend to be working families now, with each member absent from the house daily, going about work and education. When and if the entire family does reside in the same room at the same time, time is very much of the essence and so in respect of my mother’s household, there simply isn’t the time to invest so much in to baking and dessert making.

Only a few hours after the initial conversation with my Nan, I received another call from her – correcting her early notion that every recipe she had was mentally retained as she had a digitally kept version of a recipe for Irish Soda Bread passed down from my granddad’s side of the family. It had come in to her possession after a distant family member had come across the recipe in his ancestors’ collections and had transcribed it digitally to distribute to those members of the family that lived too far from him to be able to verbally communicate. Upon glancing at the recipe, I suddenly came to a realisation about my own habits of collecting information.

Whilst I have already mentioned my awareness of my Nan hand-preparing food, I personally, had never asked for her advice when preparing food, myself. The digital format of the soda bread recipe was so familiar to me that I realised that I had spent a great deal of time looking up recipes through search engines, rather than collecting it generationally and I had done so naturally and without thought. With everything so readily available via the internet and with the devices connected to the internet being so vast and numerous, I had flocked to them for the answers to my questions, rather than speaking with the people in my family. As a product of my time, I also tend to buy ready-made ingredients from the supermarket and much of my daily food is plucked from the depths of my freezer. Whilst I cannot change my past actions, glancing over the surface of the potential culinary secrets of my family has made me determined to give use to my kitchen and to make the most of the knowledge that could be available to me, if I only I could stray from the convenience of the internet and verbally and physically communicate with those around me.

[1] Elaine Leong, Collecting Knowledge for the Family: Recipes, Gender and Practical Knowledge in the Early Modern English Household (2013) <https://doi.org/10.1111/1600-0498.12019> Wiley Library Online Library <https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/> [date accessed 28 March 2019]

The Goldsworthy family: Siblings of George III’s royal court

Reading the menus of George III’s court, I found that the name ‘Miss Goldsworthy’ was repeated under the Princess’s dinner with no exception. This led me to wonder; who was Miss Goldsworthy and how significant was she, as she was named directly in the royal menus? As such, I investigated the Goldsworthy name in the court of George III, looking into his servants and equerries, and found two siblings of great importance and interest.

In the royal court, which was comprised of those closest to the king, such as his doctors and his family’s servants, Equerries were of great importance. Drawn from the military aristocracy, equerries acted as servants to the king who were in charge of the king’s horses, and it was among these men that Miss Goldsworthy’s brother, Phillip, served King George. From this then, I will look into the lives of the Goldsworthy siblings to see how significant they were in the life of George III, and to view what their roles were in George’s court. I hope to emphasise too how significant these siblings were in court, and display how well respected they were by George and his family.


Miss Martha Caroline Goldsworthy, sub governess and carer to George’s daughters, was an integral part of the royal household under George III. Martha came into service with the royal household following her predecessor, Mrs Coultsworth, retiring in 1772 and was hand picked by the royal household. She was a well read and highly literate woman, and her numerous writings between her and Mary Hamilton are a testament to this, though they are held at the University of Manchester so viewing them is somewhat difficult. Miss Goldsworthy’s writings do however grant an insight into life during the period, such as in how oppressive the winters were and how it affected the royals’ daily routine. To the both the royal household and royal children, Martha, or ‘Gooly’ as she was known, was well liked, particularly more than her counterpart Miss Gomm. Together though, both ladies were a fierce duo, earning themselves the title of ‘twin dragons of decorum’. In 1816, having served the royal household for 33 years, Martha Goldsworthy passed away at the age of 76 , having had no children of her own.

Martha Caroline Goldsworthy’s grave, as seen in Bath Abbey

The closeness of Miss Goldsworthy to the royal household is clear therefore, and would have made for a strong bond between her and the princesses in her care. This is made clearer too as she even lived in the Queen’s house while she was in service to the royals, meaning she was close to the family at all times. Though this closeness was only allowed directly by the royal household, as they directly employed her, and was likely due to the prestige of her family. This prestige would have not only come from her brother, the equerry, but also from her notable ancestors such as Phillip Vanbrugh, an officer in the Royal Navy and former governor of Newfoundland. As stated, Martha’s brother Phillip also served in the royal court and can give another insight into court life under George III.


Phillip Goldsworthy, George’s favoured equerry, was born in 1737 and educated at Cambridge University, later entering George’s service as an equerry in 1779. In his service, Phillip attached himself warmly to the royal family and was well liked, even becoming Clerk Martial and the King’s Chief Equerry in 1788. From others’ accounts, Phillips drab descriptions of court life entertained others at court and his dry wit made him popular with courtiers and royals alike. In his service too, Phillip is seen in accounts alongside his sister, which would suggest that the siblings remained close while in close proximity to the royal family. In his other endeavours, Phillip maintained a seat in parliament for Wilton from 1794 until his death in 1801. Like his sister, he had no children, though he did leave some legacy. In later life, Phillip appears in a painting alongside George and the Prince of Wales, displaying him clearly as a figure of importance.

Phillip Goldsworthy can be seen on the right of the painting alongside David Dundas in ‘George III and the Prince of Wales Reviewing Troops’ (1798)

From these insights then, Phillip Goldsworthy offers a humorous understanding of life in the Georgian court and in how one could rise to power in the aristocracy. As with his sister the position of his family doubtlessly helped him achieve his position, but his merits and his relationship with the king and court were undoubtedly strong. Though while he may have been close to the royals, his closeness to his sister is relatively unknown, not helped by the difficulty of accessing Martha’s letters. Phillips lack of literary nature also harm efforts to find sources on the siblings’ feelings towards each other, a fact that can’t be helped by going to Manchester.
Overall, using the Goldsworthy siblings to view the royal court helps in assessing the dynamics and relationships in the Georgian court. This assessment is hampered by a lack of available sources, though the literature surrounding them is still available and definitely useful. As both died childless though, it is unfortunate that the Goldsworthy legacy died with them, but needless to say the impact they had on the royal household was significant indeed.

Bibliography:

LS9-226_0060, January 31, 1789

Sophie Loussouarn, “Governesses of the Royal Family and the Nobility in Great Britain, 1750 – 1815” in Isabelle Baudino, Jaques Carre, Cecile Revauger eds. The Invisible Woman: Aspects of Women’s Work in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Cornwall, 2005) 

Christopher Hibbert, George III: A Personal History (St. Ives, 1998) 

Morris Marples, Princes in the Making: A Study of Royal Education (London, 1965) 

Robert, Martha Caroline Goldsworthy, Sub Governess to the daughters of George III (11 March, 2010) https://www.flickr.com/photos/32157648@N08/4443208972/in/photostream/

G. Kearsley, The British chronologist; comprehending every material occurrence, ecclesiastical, civil, or military, relative to England and Wales, from the invasion of the Romans to the present time (London, 1775) 

‘Goldsworthy, Phillip (c. 1737-1801)’ in Lewis Namier, John Brooke eds. The History of Parliament: the house of Commons 1754-1790 (1964) http://www.historyofparliamentonline.org/volume/1754-1790/member/goldsworthy-philip-1737-1801

George III, Samuel Shoemaker, ‘A Pennsylvania Loyalist’s Interview with George III. Extract from the MS. Diary of Samuel Shoemaker’ in The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. 2 No. 1 (1878) p. 38

William Beechey, George III and the Prince of Wales Reviewing Troops (1798) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:George_III_and_the_Prince_of_Wales_Reviewing_Troops_(1798).jpg

Food for Fertility

An essential aspect of womanhood in the early modern period was fertility; womanhood was synonymous with motherhood. As a result of this recipe books or informational books in this period often contained knowledge on how to increase fertility or increase chances of conception. I found it interesting that one of the first primary texts we examined in the module, being The English hous-wife written by Gervase, included a recipe for women to conceive. Reading this made me curious as to what other methods were used to aid fertility. The recipe itself is as follows:

“To make a woman to conceive, let her either drink mugwort steeped in wine; or else the powder thereof mixed with wine, as shall best please her tast.” [1]

The book is not particularly detailed in regard to quantities of the solution or how frequently it should be taken, and it does not specifically state why this recipe was effective. However, it was generally thought that mugwort would encourage normal menstruation and assist in the quickening of childbirth. [2] Because of this it is typically referred to as the ‘woman’s herb’. The regular bodily functions of women, specifically menstrual flow, was seen as essential to the health of the womb and therefore the ability to procreate.


Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris): flowering stem. Watercolour. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY

Other recipes for conception include that written by Hannah Woolley in her advice book to women. This recipe is far more complex than Gervase’s, containing significantly more ingredients and specifically mentioning the times of day the concoction should be taken. There is one similarity between the recipes however, being the use of mugwort. This suggests that there was a common belief that this plant was beneficial to the fertility of women. Other ingredients include English snake-weed root, nettle-seeds, eringo-root, nutmeg, dates, pistachios, saffron, cinnamon, vervain and pineapple kernels. The specific instructions for this treatment are as follows;

Take of this Electurary the quantity of a good Nutmeg in a little Glass full of White wine, in the Morning fasting, and at 4 a Clock After-noons, and as much at night going to Bed, but be sure do no violent exercises. [3]

Humoral theory played a crucial part in what was widely believed to increase pregnancy. The theory is based on the idea that bodily health is dependent on the balance of the bodies four humors, being black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm. Particularly important to the bodies well-being was temperature. It could not be too hot, too cold, too wet, or too dry. Jennifer Evans talking in great detail about the particular methods used to aid in procreation. She suggests that heat, being applied through hot foods, was perceived as essential to the creation of a child. This was rooted in the idea that hot foods would increase the heat of the womb, increasing lust and pleasure gained in sex. [4] There appears to have been a belief that increased sex would eventually result in a child, suggesting that issues conceiving was thought to be based on the frigidity of the women. The hot foods were thought to act as an aphrodisiac, increasing the chance of pregnancy through increased sexual intercourse.

Evans consults the work of Jakod Rueff, author of The Expert Midwife (1637). The foods he advised to help in this area were spices, including herbs, pepper, cinnamon and ginger, which we also see present in Woolley’s list of ingredients. Other contemporary authors such as Phillip Barrough emphasised the importance of consuming hot meats, particularly pheasant, chicken, doves, capons or sparrows. [4] Wine was also commonly advised to warm the body, an ingredient we see in both Gervase’s and Woolley’s recipes.

A previous blog post entitled ‘Recipes for Life’ also discusses advice to couples attempting to conceive. The post focuses Aristotle’s Master-piece. The book, like many other informative books of the period, focuses on humoral theory and the need to heat the womb rather than identifying treatment for the specific causes of the conception issues. [5] I would be interested in investigating further the methods and recipes for improving specifically female fertility. From earlier examples, one way this was thought to be achieved was through the regulation of periods. Mugwort was one ingredient used to address this issue. However, some contended that the womb needed to be cleansed before there would be a chance of successful pregnancy. Another recipe cited by Evans can be found in the recipes of Lady Ayscough. It included parsley, hazel nuts, arch angel flowers, and “the ‘pythe’ of an oxe back”. [4] Therefore, it is apparent that improving chances of pregnancy was strongly connected to increased sex, and the cleansing of the womb (or in other words the regulation of menstruation) which could be encouraged by the consumption of hot foods and certain herbs.

By Jasmine Moran

[1] Markham, Gervase, The English hous-wife (London, 1653), p. 31.

[2] Harford, Robin, ‘Traditional and Modern Use of Mugwort’, [assessed 2nd April 2019].

[3] Woolley, Hannah, The accomplish’d ladies delight in preserving, physick beautifying, and cookery, (London, 1685), p. 43.

[4] Evans, Jennifer, ‘Gentle Purges corrected with hot Spices, whether they work or not, do vehemently provoke Venery’: Menstrual Provocation and Procreation in Early Modern England’, Social history of medicine, volume 25, no. 1, (2011).

[5] mmorgan, ‘Recipes for Life’, [assessed 2nd April 2019].

How to Craft the Perfect Orchard

If like me, living in a city means you don’t really have much garden space, so I can say I have never grown anything before in my life. But this hasn’t always been the case. From the first half of the twentieth century, orchard gardens began propping up all over England on the properties of high-status houses, sometimes owned by religious orders or noblemen. Particularly in Greater London’s county of Herefordshire, fruit orchards were easy to come across due to its excellent microclimate, which creates the perfect conditions for growing fruit. Nowadays, Herefordshire has an abundance of craft cider manufactures, like Gwatkin Cider but the county is still home to many orchards, for example, Shenley Park.

Gervase Markham (1568- 3 February 1637) was an English poet and author. Coming from a family of knights and nobles, he was largely exposed to the luxuries of the upper-class social order, making him no stranger to the operations of a household or pleasure gardens.

Markham wrote about many subjects. His works ranged from comedy, poetry, novels, and ‘how to’ books. One of his most popular works is The English Huswife.

Looking at the second part of Markham’s The English Husband I am going to explore just how the English Husbandman crafted the perfect orchard; this will definitely come in handy if you ever inherit 50 acres or land or if, like us, you marvel at those who lived in Early Modern Europe.

Crafting Your Orchard

To begin with, you want to seek out the sunniest, airiest section of land in your newly inherited property. If your garden faces south, you’re in luck, you’ll have direct sunlight from the south and west sun beaming on your property, helping the growing process.

The foundations of your orchard should look as displayed on the left. Craft a great large square, approximately 12 to 14ft, before sectioning off into four quarters. In the centre, if you’re feeling extra fancy you can add a fountained, as fashioned in the diagram, or maybe a small pond.

At this point, we’re ready to plant our fruit trees. The U.K bestselling apple is Gala apples, originally an apple of New Zealand. They grow extremely well in our climate and are profitable. Markham suggests the planting of pears and wardens (a hard cooking pear) as the next best option, and quinces and chestnuts are your third. Depending on how much fruit variety you would like, stone fruits, such as apricots, peaches etc. can be grown by the wall at the north section of your orchard.

Your orchard should aim to resemble the diagram to the right. Our smaller dots are your stone fruits, like your peaches, plums, or apricots. The centre consists of our apple trees. These are to be around 5 feet apart from one another.

Within 6 to 10 years your orchard should be flourishing. Get ready for endless plum and apple tarts!

Some tips for perfecting your orchard:

  1. Make sure your soil is fertile.
  2. Choose your fruit wisely. English climate is moderate, to say the least. Fruit trees, such as apples, plums, pears and cherries thrive in our mild climate. Remember, apples are delicious.
  3. Plant your summer and winter fruits at different times. Planting them together can prove problematic; this is because as seasons change the soil moisture fluctuates, which can affect the way the fruit develops.

Other links:

To learn more about the history of the orchard see Pee Brown’s The Apple Orchard: The Story of Our Most English Fruit.

https://historicengland.org.uk/images-books/publications/drpgsg-rural-landscapes/heag092-rural-landscapes-rgsgs/

https://ptes.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/wildlife-and-management-guide.pdf

‘Little Adults’?: The Presence of Children in the Early Modern Household

When reflecting upon the early modern household’s project, the lack of children present in the source material was raised and having already researched the extraordinary child demoniac cases of the late Elizabethan and Early Stuart periods, I decided to delve further. Considering the increased ratio of the child demographic in the early modern period, I found it odd that not more mention is made of children in relation to the household/family unit. There were plenty of children around so why are they not all-over contemporary literature?  

Early modern children have previously been considered as ‘little adults’, bred for labour and repressed of play and nurturement. [1] One answer is that they were not regarded as ‘full humans’ until they reached adulthood and could contribute to the household, therefore their mention was irrelevant. Yet when I came across two particularly worried women seeking advice from Sir. Hans Sloane about their children’s illnesses, I was glad to know that they certainly did care about their offspring, and a great deal too. Children tend to appear in sources when there was a cause for concern, the emotional despair of parents is then best seen through private documentation such as letters and diaries. The seventeenth-century diarist Reverend Ralph Josselin, constantly reflected upon his children’s fortunes and misfortunes, confirming that they were always on his mind. [2]

To be clear, childhood in the early modern period it is the stage before ‘youth’, which we would now interpret as adolescence. I am not suggesting that some early modern children, namely those of poorer families weren’t turfed out of home to work when circumstances required, but this was out of necessity and not choice. In terms of the middling classes at least, it can be gleaned that children could live out their childhoods with joy and love.

Mrs Tothill and Mrs Lowther wrote to Sloane with unrestrained desperation. Concerned that her son’s trouble with worms was re-emerging, Mrs Lowther lamented: [3]

‘I cant help fearing the Consequence of such frequent returns & therefore though it proper to acquaint you that we are very apprehensive’

Similarly, Mrs Tothill pleaded with Sloane :

‘I humbly beg you to grant me so as to take him into your compasinat and affecinat cear as a youth far from his own family and Sr both Mr Tothills and my grattud shall attend you in the most perticullers manner affecinat parants can show’

Mrs Tothill recognises that Sloane is unknown to her personally, yet her grief over one of her four sons whom ‘is a very dear dearling child’ to her and Mr Tothill is so great it prompts her to seek out Sloane. [4]

Yet these are parents of the eighteenth-century, a time where Phillip Aries decided families began to care for their children. [5] Apparently, until some point in the seventeenth-century, child-parent relations were distant and there was no such separation between the stages of childhood and youth, children were simply expected to ‘adult’ quickly. Being familiar with the child demoniac cases I must disagree with Aries. Parents were more concerned for their children than ever in the post reformation decades, a surge of child rearing publications became available, [6] and the removal of the element of exorcism in baptisms created an enhanced fear for the salvation of children.

Early modern children represented a religious battleground, where either God or the Devil would persevere, and the child’s predestination would become clear. In some cases, this battle was very visible. When 14-year-old Mary Glover fell into fits in 1602, later ascribed to possession, her parents feared so much for her life that they ‘caused the bell to be touled for her’. [7] Throughout the detailed report on her case, the efforts her parents went to cure her and the emotional trauma they felt is obvious. Regularly noted as being by Mary’s side is her mother, and her father did all he could with his connections to restore her health, sending forth ‘many harty sighes’ when preachers gathered to pray for Mary. [8] The concerns that prompted parents to seek advice or reflect upon in diaries were largely generated by health and prosperity, unsurprisingly interlinked with the religiosity of the era.

Considered by many to have been taking advantage of their enhanced position as demoniacs, the Throckmorton children enjoyed playing with others whilst out of their fits. [9] In fact, play was one of the only things that could temporarily restore Elizabeth Throckmorton:

‘she was never out of her fit within doores…she would be merrie and lightsome, finding many things wherein she would take delight, as playing with her cosens’ [10]

Sofonisba Anguissola, The Chess Game (1555).

By looking at private and extraordinary sources, the presence of children is found, and they are not projected as neglected little adults at all, clearly ‘children pastime themselves’ with ‘light and childish sportes’. [11] These snippets rather suggest a strong, emotional connection between the early modern parent and child.

References:

[1] Paul Griffiths, Youth and Authority (New York, 1996).

[2] Alan Macfarlane (ed.), The Diary of Ralph Josselin: 1616 – 1683 (Oxford, 1976).

[3] K. Lowther to Hans Sloane, 1739-05-02, Sloane MS 4076, f. 48, British Library, London.

[4] Tothill to Hans Sloane, 172-08-14, Sloane MS 4046, ff. 282 – 283, British Library, London,

 f. 283r.

[5] Phillipe Aries, Centuries of Childhood (1962).

[6] John Lyster, A rule how to bring vp children (London, 1588).

[7] Stephen Bradwell, Mary Glovers Late and Woefull Case, Together with her Joyfull Deliverance (1603), British Library, Sloane MS 831, f. 4v.

[8] John Swan, A True and Breife Report, of Mary Glovers Vexation (1603), p.8.

[9] D. P. Walker, Unclean Spirits, (London, 1981).

[10] Unknown, The most strange and admirable discouerie of the three witches of Warboys, 1593,pp. 10 – 12.

[11] Ibid.

Further reading:

Ben-Amos, Ilana Krausman, Adolescence and Youth in Early Modern England (New Haven, 1994).

French, Anna, Children of Wrath: Possession, Prophecy and the Young in Early Modern England (Farnham, 2015).

Sharpe, J. A., ‘Disruption in the Well-Ordered Household: bAfe, Authority and Possessed Young people’ in Paul Griffiths, Adam Fox and Steve Hindle (eds), The Experience of Authority in Early Modern England (Basingstoke, 1996).

Self-Murder

During a visit to the University of Essex’s Special Collections, whilst pursuing a number of early modern household books, I came across the term ‘self-murder’ in George Cheyne’s A Treatise on Health and Long Life, (London, 1787), p. 142.       

Self-murder or suicide as we know it today, was not something that had previously popped up during my studies, and therefore caught my attention.  It got me thinking about what this term meant to those of early modern society, and how their understanding and reactions to it mirrored or differed from ours.

There has always been to a certain extent a perceived stigma surrounding mental health and suicide, and even up until the last few decades it has not been something openly spoken about, which could explain its lack of real presence in historical literature.

In the aforementioned treatise from the year 1787, Cheyne explicitly linked the occurrence of self-murder in Britain to the high frequency of chronical distempers, such as scurvy.  He suggested that the British’s inability ‘to suffer patiently the lasting pains of chronical distemper’ resulted in their opting to take their life by means of suicide.  This brief mention of suicide really sets the tone, that self-murder was understood by Cheyne at least, as a weakness of character.

 I wanted to know more and upon further investigation I came across Michael MacDonald and Terence Murphy’s comprehensive investigation into the history of suicide, Sleepless Souls, (Oxford, 1990).  They discuss how early modern responses and attitudes towards self-murder came full cycle.  First hardening and then returning to a more sympathetic and tolerant view more in alignment with the ancient philosophies. 

In Tudor and early Stuart England self-killing was not only a sin in the context of religion but also a criminal felony. This was due to its knock on effect within society, such as the family of a male self-murderer being unable to cope financially.  This crime was taken very seriously and would be tried posthumously, with the heirs of the deceased being severely punished for their actions.

Sir John Everett Millais, Ophelia, (Surrey, 1852).

Ophelia’s suicide in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (London, 1589), although fictitious is one example that publicly illustrated how diverse the responses to suicide in the early modern period were. They were symptomatic to the legal, theological and popular attitudes of society. 

Let us look at what had occurred in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in order to bring about this complete transformation of opinion that MacDonald and Murphey talk about.  They believe that political and religious changes have much to do with the increasing hostility towards suicide, specifically the Protestant Reformation.  Protestant reformers preached that suicide was a terrible sin instigated by the devil and a crime against God.[1]  In this sense it would be easy to see why attitudes towards self-murder changed, with religion being so deeply embedded within the heart of every early modern household. 

George Abbot the then future archbishop of Canterbury spoke of suicide as being the very antithesis of Christian hope, ‘a sin so grieuous that scant any is more heinous unto the Lord’.[2]  These sorts of opinions were reiterated and stressed in many other treatise, sermons and devotional works, really entrenching early modern society with this belief concerning suicide, despite the lack proofs supporting it within the bible. 

A further notion regarding suicide preached by the clergy, was that self-murder actually came from God, as an act of retribution for sins committed.  This argument was employed as a tool during the reformation as a way to promote one’s own church, and examples were used of Catholic persecutors of Protestants that went mad and then killed themselves.

Despite attitudes evidently becoming more hostile during the Protestant reformation, it is worth mentioning what the Catholic Church thought in regards to the act of self-murdering.   

According to Catholic teaching despair was a sin unforgivable, and suicide was the consequence of extreme despair, and was therefore one of the seven mortal sins.  This belief would to a certain extent, contradict the view that the reformation had as much to do with the changing attitudes towards self-murder as first thought.  The Catholic association of suicide and despair is clearly depicted in Giotto Di Bondone’s Seven Vices and Seven Virtues (Padua, 1306)found in the Cappella Scrovegni Chapel.

After 1660 a greater ecclesiastical, judicial and societal leniency towards self-murder was evident, the causes are more complex than those that contributed to the earlier hardening of attitudes.  Much of it is owing to the English Revolution and its after effects upon local government and legal institutions.  

The abolition of prerogative courts, the fall of censorship, and the rise of the new science enlightenment philosophy, all played their parts.[3]  Many were in opposition to this relaxing of attitudes some even protested, nevertheless this was a time of cultural change and the lay persons opinions outweighed those in support of severity concerning self-murder. 

The rise in literacy towards the end of the eighteenth century also enabled more to read the widely published defences of suicide, and it came to be regarded by many as a rational choice.  Despite the law against self-murder not actually being changed until the nineteenth century, the use of it in court became increasingly suspended.   

With suicide being ever present in our daily news as the biggest killer of men under 49, I felt it was important to see how over time attitudes to it have changed.  Even in the early modern period acceptance and sympathy for the victims of self-murder won over the judicial and ecclesiastical attitudes of hostility.  It is innate to sympathise with fellow human beings especially in their darkest times, nobody should ever feel ashamed or alone when suffering mental health issues.   

Bibliography/Further Reading

Abbot, George, An Exposition Upon the Prophet Jonah, (London, 1600).

Bondone, Giotto Di, Desperatio, (Padua, 1306).

Cheyne, George, A Treatise on Health and Long Life, (London, 1787).

MacDonald, Michael & Terence R. Murphy, Sleepless Souls, (Oxford, 1990).

MacDonald, Michael, ‘The Medicalization of Suicide in England: Laymen, Physicians, and Cultural Change, 1500-1870’, in Framing Disease: Studies in Cultural History, eds. Charles E. Rosenberg, Janet Lynne Golden, (New Jersey, 1997).

Millais, Sir John Everett, Ophelia, (Surrey, 1852).

Mortality Analysis Team, ‘Suicides in the UK: 2017 registrations’, https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/birthsdeathsandmarriages/deaths/bulletins/suicidesintheunitedkingdom/2017registrations, Office for National Statistics, https://www.ons.gov.uk/, [accessed 25/03/2019].

Murray, Alexander, Suicide in the Middle Ages, (Oxford, 1998).

Shakespeare, William, Hamlet, (London, 1589).


[1] MacDonald, Sleepless, p. 5.

[2] George Abbot, An Exposition Upon the Prophet Jonah, (London, 1600), p. 132.

[3] MacDonald, Sleepless, p.109.

Becoming Michael Fish: using Early Modern methods to predict the weather

The weather forecast plays an arbitrary role in most of our day to day lives as a segment on the news or something to quickly check on an app. It only really becomes important when planning a day out or looking out for severe weather warnings. Weather is not something most people are concerned about unless in extreme conditions or if the weather is predicted incorrectly, such as in 1987 when Michael Fish assured viewers in his lunchtime weather broadcast that there was not a hurricane on the way. However, in the early hours of the next day, the south coast of England faced gales that reached 115 miles per hour.[1]

‘Michael Fish revisits 1987’s Great Storm’, BBC News, 16 October 2017.

For people in the early modern period, especially those who relied on agrarian method for their own produce and business, the weather was pivotal in ensuring their survival. Gervase Markham includes a section in his book The English Husbandman (1635) about how to read signs from the sun, moon, clouds and air to help the reader predict the weather, with a focus on rain. The fact that it was included as part of a book that ‘contained the knowledge of Husbandly Duties’ shows how vital it was to have some understanding of the weather in early modern society.

Stephen Wilson highlights that weather prediction was not a new practice in the early modern period and that it took place in the Ancient world as well and could be linked to divine beings.[2] Weather in the early modern period was not perceived as just a natural occurrence but also influenced or controlled by other forces such as God, saints, demons or humans with specials powers such as witches which allowed for its unpredictability.

For five days, I have used Markham’s guide to reading signs about the weather to see if I could successfully forecast the weather or become the next unfortunate Michael Fish. On Thursday, around lunchtime, the day seemed grey with a thick blanket of cloud covering the sky.

‘If there you shall at any time perceive a Cloud rising from the lowest part of the Horizon, and that the maine body be blacke and thicke, and his beames (as it were) Curtaine-wise, extending upward, and driven before the Windes: it is a certaine and infallible signe of a present shower of Raine, yet but momentary and soone spent, or passed over : but if the Cloud shall arise against the Winde, and as it were spread it selfe against the violence of the same, then shall the Raine be of much longer continuance.’

Gervase Markham’s ‘signes from the cloud’

Checking Markham’s ‘Signes from the cloud’, the cloud did seem to start at the horizon and cover the sky but did not seem particularly black or thick. As a black and thick cover of cloud is a sign of a brief rainy shower, I forecast that there would be a light shower later in the day , more of a drizzle fitting to the pale clouds. I was wrong – at about 3pm, the sun was shining, and the sky was blue and clear. Going back over my notes, I realised I should have noticed the lack of waterfowl on the lake – if the ducks and geese would have been on the lake then it would have been almost certain to have rained.



‘If you shall perceive water-Fowle to bathe much’

After falling short reading cloud signs, I turned to Markham’s more definitive signs. Markham suggests that salt becoming moist when placed in a dry place is a sure sign that rain will follow. So, I placed salt on my bedroom windowsill, in an attempt to limit the effects of modern-day insulation and left it overnight. When checked the first two mornings, the salt had remained dry which was consistent with the fine, spring weather forecast, however on third morning the salt had become damp, forming clumps that suggested rain was on the way – although I could not spot the neighbour’s cat washing behind her ear to confirm with a sign from a beast, rain did follow.

‘If Salt turne moyst standing in dry places’

While my readings of Markham’s signs were not always accurate, the empirical reasoning behind the signs are identifiable. By observing the moisture levels in salt, dampness in the air can be visibly seen which suggests incoming wet weather. Empirical observation is also seen in the various descriptions of cloud colouring that suggests rain, an understanding which is common today with dark clouds in the day suggesting that rainfall is due. Markham, like Michael Fish, used the tools he had to best predicate the weather and educate others of the best way of doing so. Markham’s work shows how early modern people running households sought to bring order and predictability to their lives. Through reading signs in order to predict the weather, the good husbandman would have been able to prepare and plan in order to best provide for his household. While weather forecasts may not play such a pivotal role in all our daily lives, except for businesses where work takes places mainly outside, the impact when it is predicted wrong can be catastrophic, just ask Michael Fish!

[1] Joe Shute, ‘Weatherman Michael Fish on missing the Great Storm of 1987: ‘when I saw what happened I thought, ‘oh s***’’, The Telegraph (12 October 2017), https://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/thinking-man/weatherman-michael-fish-missing-great-storm-1987-saw-happened/ [accessed 1 April 2019]

[2] Stephen Wilson, The Magical Universe: Everyday Ritual and Magic in Pre-Modern Europe (London, 2000), pp. 57-58.

Gervase Markham, The English Husbandman (London, 1635), pp. 10-13, http://historicaltexts.jisc.ac.uk/ [accessed 25 March 2019].

A 17th Century recipe in a 21st Century kitchen.

Today we have the world at our finger tips. We can order products or goods online and have them delivered right to our front doors. We can pop to the shops and have fruits and food goods from around the world available to us. If we want to try something new, we have endless resources to help us find the best recipes. The accessibility we have to recipes today has removed the importance of cooking advice and recipe books being passed down, edited and improved through the generations; now we simply go onto the internet or the shops and buy or find the best recipe that suits us. The lack of exclusivity of recipe books today in comparison to the seventeenth century has inspired me to follow a recipe and record the results. From this experiment I hope to discover if there is something to be said for the almost casual formatting of recipes and the smells and flavours people in the seventeenth century experienced and if the same can be created in a twenty-first century kitchen.

John and Joan Gibson: Medical recipe book, 1632-1717.

‘To make lemmon Marmalad’ is a recipe from John and Joan Gibson’s medical recipe book. The first entry to this book was 1634 and the last 1717. It was interesting to find food recipes alongside recipes for medicines, however home remedies were often used when a doctor was not available therefore it comes as no surprise to find recipe ‘To make Lemmon Marmalad’ in the same book as a recipe for ‘if ye be swelld & ye humor hott’. The three hands in this recipe book belonged to John Gibson, Joanne Gibson and Joanna Gibson, this is an example of recipe books being used by the family and handed down through the generations. Adding to this often, the author would be credited alongside the recipes, for example, ‘given me by Lady Davey 1717’ shows the exchange of recipes and the relationship between women.

John and Joan Gibson: Medical recipe book, 1632-1717.

The format and way this recipe reads is different to the format seen in today’s recipes. There are no titles for ingredients, equipment and method. There are no measurements of time and heat. The general lack of specific information in the recipe shows the possibility such details were not needed in the seventeenth-century. This gives insight to the difference in the requirements of a recipe book then and what are needed now. The recipe reads as a list of instructions therefore when trying to gather ingredients and the appropriate equipment for the recipe, I had to read the recipe several times. Terms used such as ‘put it to’ made the instructions unclear and hard to understand what the method required me to do. As a result, although this is a relatively simple recipe, the re-reading and lack of guidance made this recipe fairly difficult to follow. The ingredients are interesting as quantities and types were not provided. For example ‘Take green apples’ it does not say how many apples or the type (regular or cooking?) of apples to use. This could have resulted in a different tasting marmalade each time this recipe was followed therefore the consistency of this recipe’s results come into question. Did this recipe produce the same marmalade every time?  The lack of specific details in the recipe could not have guaranteed this lemon marmalade would have always reliably been the same. The recipe would likely have been interpreted differently each time therefore producing difference in the taste and texture of the marmalade depending on the quantities of ingredients used by different people.  I also wondered ‘why am I using apples in lemon marmalade?’  Sugar was expensive in the seventeenth-century therefore using apples as a sweetener for the marmalade can be a justification. The availability of lemons may have also contributed to the use of apples in lemon marmalade as lemons were likely imported and so apples were easier to come by in volume. I suggest apples were used to add to the texture, sweetness and volume to the lemon marmalade. The lack of clear instructions and precise ingredients present the idea the availability of flavours, ingredients and equipment would have encouraged the motion to use whatever was available to those following this recipe.

My ‘Lemmon Marmalad’

Overall, the aroma in the kitchen was very pleasant and sweet, especially when boiling the apples. Due to the lack of explicit measurements and quantity of ingredients, it took three batches to find the right lemon, sugar and apple ratio to make an edible marmalade. The result was a syrup-like, particularly sticky, tangy and sour marmalade with a bitter sweet aftertaste. The experience of reading and following a seventeenth-century recipe has been interesting as it has shown relative difference in the understanding and requirements of recipes between the seventeenth and twenty-first centuries.