John Baptista Porta and 'sports against women'

In my last post, I spoke a little bit about John Baptista Porta's 1658 work Natural Magick, and outlined some of his remedies for 'beautifying women' that are contained in the book's ninth chapter. Most interestingly, though, this chapter is concluded by half a page of suggestions for 'some sports against women', an idea which can surely be paraphrased as 'practical jokes'. Whilst some readers might read this as undermining their belief in the credibility of what Porta has outlined in the preceding pages, what struck me most was the very real sense of humour that comes across at the end of this chapter. Porta seems to acknowledge two things: firstly, beauty remedies are indeed useful and desirable for women, and, secondly, that these remedies also offer an opportunity for some, erm, tricks to be played at the expense of some of the vainer women in his readership. It should be said, though, that Pliny and Avicenna seem to be the root culprits for these jokes, rather than Porta himself.

Below I have transcribed my three favourite examples of these practical jokes. I do not, however, take any responsibility for providing any readers with ammunition to enact these tricks on siblings / flatmates / spouses! All of the following quotations are taken from the EEBO edition of the 1658 work, and are from p. 253.

'To make a woman full of red pimples.

Of a Stellio is made an ill Medicament: for when he is dead in Wine, all the Faces of those that drink of it, will be red-spotted Wherefore, they that would disfigure Whores, kill him in an Oyntment. The Remedy is, the yelk of an Egg, Honey and Glass. Pliny'.

'To make the Face green.

Avicenna saith, That the Decoction of Chamaeleon, put into a bath, will make him green-coloured that stays long in that bath; and then by degrees he will recover his former colour'.

'To make the Hair fall off the Head and Beard.

Touch any part of mans body with a matter white as milk, that the Salamander vomits up out of its mouth, and the Hairs will fall off; and what is touched is changed into the Leprosie. Pliny'.

The writers of Bride Wars could have done with access to Porta's text, too!

1. John Baptista Porta, Natural Magick (London: 1658), in EEBO.

2. Picture: Kate Hudson in Bride Wars, http://couturecouture.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/kate-hudson-from-bride-wars.jpg

© Jenna Townend 2013

John Baptista Porta and seventeenth-century beauty

So, beauty regimes and cosmetics are the pursuits of the modern era, right? Wrong. In fact, the routines that women undertake today to wear make-up, dye their hair and wax their legs are not a million miles away from those of our seventeenth-century sisters (and probably brothers, too!). In his 1658 work Natural Magick, John Baptista Porta set down 'the riches and delights of the Natural Sciences', including a chapter entitled 'Of Beautifying Women'. In it, he presents a plethora of what can only be described as beauty tips and techniques. They range in topics from the removal of unwanted hair, to how to make the face desirably white and soft. Granted we can not be sure how many of these recipes were used, and indeed how many women used them, but what we can be sure of is that the detail with which Porta relates these passages must mean that there was demand for literature of this type, especially since it is included in a work that also has chapters on 'the Production of new Plants' and 'Perfuming'.

Below I have transcribed three of my favourite excerpts from the work. Whilst I'm not entirely convinced by the effectiveness of all the recipes(!), I think they give a wonderful insight into a historic culture that, though obviously fascinating in its own right, is also so similar in its concerns to the beauty culture of our own age.

'To make the Hair yellow:

Draw Oyl from Honey by the Art of Distillation, as we shall shew: First, there will come forth a clear VVater, then a Saffron-colour, then a Gold-colour: use this to anoynt the Hair with a Spunge; but let it touch the Skin: for it will dye it Saffron-colour, and it is not easily washed off. This is the principal above others, because the Tincture will last many dayes: and it will dye Gray-Hairs, which few others will. Or make a Lye of Oak-Ashes, put in the quantity of a Bean of Rhubarb, as much Tobacco, a handful of Barley-Straw and Foeny-Graec, Shells of Oranges, the Raspings of Guaiacum, a good deal of wilde Saffron and Liquorish: put all these in an Earthen-pot, and boyl them, till the water sink three fingers: the Hairs will be washt excellently with this. Hold them in the Sun, then cast Brimstone on the Coals and fume the Hairs; and whilst it burns, receive the smoke with a little Tunnel at the bottom, and cover your Head all over with a cloth, that the smoke flie not away' (p. 234).

'That hair should never grow again:

In which business I have taken great pains; and tried many things that I found to be false; First, foment the part with hot water, and pull out the Hairs one by one with womens nippers: then dissolve Salt-Peter in water, and anoynt the holes where the Hairs grew. It will be better done with Oyl of Brimstone, or of Vitriol: and so they will never grow again; or if they do, after one yeer, they will be very soft: do then the same again, and the parts will be bare alwayes. So I have made womens Fore-heads longer, and have taken off Hair from parts hotter than the rest' (pp. 236-37).

'To dye the Eye-brows:

Take Labdanum, and heat it with Wine, and mingle Oyl of Myrtles with it, and make a very thick Oyntment: or infuse in Oyl the black Leaves of the Myrtle-Tree, with a double quantity of Galls bruised, and use that. I use this. Galls are fried in Oyl, and they are ground with a little Salt-Ammoniac; and then mingled with Vinegar, wherein the Pills of the Mulberry and Bramble have been boyled: with these anoynt the Eyebrows, and let it abide on all night; then wash it off with water' (p. 238).

1. John Baptista Porta, Natural Magick (London: 1658), in EEBO.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Judging a book by its cover

Throughout our lives, the adage of not judging a book by its cover is constantly re-iterated to us. However, there is perhaps not as much truth in it as we would like to think, particularly (and ironically) in the context of literature. It is certainly apparent that, contrary to the popular stereotype which often casts seventeenth-century writers and publishers as highly austere, lively and detailed front covers were used as much to promote books then as they are today. As we know, an interesting front cover is often one of the first things to draw us to a text (I am of course making the argument here that in seventeenth-century texts the author's name, unlike books today, was in relatively small typeface). The same is clearly true of many seventeenth-century publishers, such as John Marriot, who (among other texts in their publishing oeuvre) produced works intended to be for popular consumption. An attractive frontispiece was a highly effective way of attracting a browser's interest in  locations such as Fleet Street or St Paul's.

Below I have included three such frontispieces that I have come across which stick in my mind as some of the most beautiful: The English Catechisme (1621), The School of the Heart (1674) and my favourite, The Divine Cosmographer (1640). If you want to look any of them up, they are all to be found on EEBO.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Monstrous births

Today I thought I would do a quick post on something that I have been doing a little bit of research on this week: monstrous births in the seventeenth century. In this post, I have brought together two different sources that I have come across: The Workes of that famous Chirugion Ambrose Parey (1649) and Jane Sharp's The Midwives Book: or the whole Art of Midwifry Discovered (1671). I think these texts make for a nice comparison on this topic, since the relevant section of Parey's work is focused upon largely anecdotal accounts of monstrous births, whereas Sharp's does not include any such figures or diagrams, and instead focuses solely upon explaining the causes of monstrous births through science rather than hearsay.

What I think this difference in approach reveals, albeit subtly, is that Sharp is far keener (unlike other places in Parey's text) to avoid lying the blame for a monstrous birth solely at the door of the mother. Instead, she assigns a portion of blame to the father and, perhaps most surprisingly, avoids accounting for the birth's occurrence solely by the means of astrology or religion. By early modern necessity, and to avoid what could be some extremely uncomfortable criticism, she does concede that 'we must not exclude the Divine vengeance' (see extract below) in accounting for a monstrous birth, but in the latter half of this sentence goes on to reveal her evident skepticism about relying upon it entirely as a way of explaining this natural phenomena. 

Below I have included several excerpts which I think best show this contrast in gendered approaches to monstrous births in Parey's and Sharp's texts. As ever, I have preserved the early modern spelling and capitalization of the two texts, both of which can be found on EEBO.

The Workes of that famous Chirugion Ambrose Parey (1649):

- ‘Dorothie an Italian had twentie children at two births; at the first nine, and at the second eleve, and that shee was so big, that shee was forced to bear up her bellie, which laie upon her knees, with a broad and large scarf tied about her neck, as you may see by this figure’ (p. 655).

- ‘In the year of our Lord 1570 … at Paris … these two infants were born, differing in sex, with that shape of bodie that you see here expressed in the figure’ (p. 652).

‘In the year 1530, there was a man to bee seen at Paris, out of whose bellie another, perfect in all his members except head, hanged forth as if it had been grafted there. The man was fortie years old, and hee carried the other implanted or growing out of him, in his arms, with such admiration to the beholders, that manie ran verie earnestly to see him’ (p. 650).

The Midwives Book: or the whole Art of Midwifry Discovered (1671):

‘Of the causes of Monstrous Conceptions’

- ‘What should be the causes of Monstrous Conceptions hath troubled many great Learned men. Alcabitius saith, if the Moon be in some Degrees when the child is conceived, it will be a Monster. Astrologers they seeke the cause in the stars, but Ministers refer it to the just judgements of God, they do not condemn the Parent or the Child in such cases, but take our blessed Saviours answer to his Disciples, who askt him, who sinned the Parent or the Child, that he was born blind? Our Saviour replyed, neither he nor his Parents, but that the Judgements of God might be made manifest in him. In all such cases, we must not exclude the Divine vengeance; yet all these errors of Nature as to the Instrumental causes are either from the material or efficient cause of procreation’ (p. 116).

- 'The matter is the seed, which may fail three several wayes, either when it is too much, and then the members are larger, or more than they should be, or too little, and then there will be some part or the whole too little, or else the seed of both sexes is ill mixed, as of men or women with beasts and certainly it is likely that no such creatures are born but by unnatural mixtures, yet God can punish the world with such grievous punishments, and that justly for our sins’ (pp. 116-17).

- 'But the efficient cause of Monsters, is either from the forming faculty in the Seed, or else the strength of imagination joined with it; add to these the menstrous blood and the disposition of the Matrix; sometimes the mother is frighted or conceives wonders, or longs strangely for things not to be had, and the child is markd accordingly by it’ (pp. 117-18).

1. Ambrose Parey, The Workes of that famous Chirugion Ambrose Parey (1649), in EEBO.

2. Jane Sharp, The Midwives Book: or the whole Art of Midwifry Discovered (1671), in EEBO.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Heroines and Housewives

Last year, my Head of Department - Professor Elaine Hobby - appeared alongside historian Lucy Worsley on the BBC4 documentary 'Heroines, Housewives and Harlots: A 17th Century History for Girls'. Once the programme had disappeared from BBC IPlayer, I searched high and low on YouTube for any snippets from it to watch again, but to no avail. Somehow (I suspect by way of a breadcrumb trail of different posts and people on Twitter), I have found it again - hurrah!

I'll be honest, when I first watched the programme, I had never heard of Hannah Woolley, and I suspect lots of other people hadn't either. What this brief clip from the programme does is give us a concise, but very thorough, insight into what it was that Hannah Woolley achieved. As Elaine says, in running a household of what was probably anywhere between 8 and 14 people (including her 6 children), Hannah was far from a quiet little housewife who only occupied her time with mundane and futile tasks. She was essentially running a small business, and evidently wanted to share her own methods and approaches with other women in a similar situation. Indeed, she was probably the first woman to earn a living from writing books on household management.

It was this example of the extraordinary success which stemmed from a woman's non-fiction writing which first grabbed me and made me want to pursue my interest in their writing, particularly on subjects such as household management and medicine. Below I have shared some of my favourite excerpts from several of Hannah Woolley's works for you to enjoy! In each transcription I have preserved the original spelling and capitalisation.

From The Accomplish’d ladies delight, in preserving, physick, beautifying, and cookery (1670):

'To make Mackroons:
Take almonds, blanch them, beat them in a Morter, with serced Sugar mingled therewith, with the white of Egg and Rosewater, then beat them altogether till they are as thick as Fritters, them drop it upon your waters, and bake it.' (A2r)

'To make Almond Milk:
Boyl French Barly, as you boyl it, cast away the water, till you see the water leave to change Colour; as you put in more fresh water, then put in a bundle of Strawberry leaves, and as much Cullumbine leaves, and boyl it a good while, then put in beaten Almonds and strain them, and then strain it with Sugar and Rosemary, them strew some Sugar about the dish, and send it to the Table.' (A4r)

'To make Pan-cakes:
Put eight Eggs to two quarts of Flower, casting by four whites, season it with Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Ginger, Cloves, Mace and Salt, then make it up into a strong Batter with Milk, beat it well together, and put in half a pint of Sack, make it so thin that it may run in your Pan how you please, put your pan on the Fire with a little Butter, or Suet, when it is very hot, take a Cloth and wipe it out, so make your Pan very clean, them put in your Batter, and run it very thin, supply it with little bits of Butter, and so toss it often, and bake it Crisp and brown.' (p. 147 – for some reason the signatures have stopped by this point!)

From The Compleat servant-maid (1670):

'How to Prevent the Tooth-ach:
Wash your mouth once a week in White-wine, in which Spurge hath been boyled, and you shall never be troubled with the Tooth-ach.' (p. 49).

'How to keep the Hair Clean, and Preserve it:
Take two handfuls of Rosemary, and boyl it softly in a quart of Spring water, till it comes to a pint, and let it be covered all the while, then strain it out and keep it, every morning when you comb your head, dip a Spunge in the water and rub your hair, and it will keep it clean and preserve it, for it is very good for the brain, and will dry up Rheum.' (p. 71)

'To make a Salve for the Lips:
Take two ounces of white Bees wax and slice it thin, then melt it over the fire, with two ounces or more of Sallet-Oyl, and a little white sugar candy, and when you see it is well incorporated, take it off the fire and let it stand till it be cold, then set the skillet on the fire again, till the bottom is warm and so turn it out, anoint your lips, or sore nose or sore nipples with this, and it will heal them.’ (p. 72)

1. Hannah Woolley, The Accomplish’d ladies delight, in preserving, physick, beautifying, and cooker (1670)
2. _____, The Compleat servant-maid (1670)

© Jenna Townend 2013

Tracing a transfiguration of death in seventeenth-century religious literature

The central focus of my dissertation's final chapter was on how two of George Herbert's poems ('Death' and 'Heaven') could have succeeded in dispelling mortal fear in his aged Christian reader by presenting death as a transcendent event to be welcomed, rather than something to be feared. Of course, this transfiguration in attitude is aligned with the progression in the presentation of death seen across the Old and New Testaments. Here, death is transformed from a finite event in which the body is simply recommitted to the dust from which it was created (Genesis 3:19, and see also 'The Order for the Burial of the Dead' in John Booty's edition of the 1599 Book of Common Prayer), to its position in the New Testament as a transcendent event for the Christian soul that, according to Scripture, was provided by Christ's self-sacrifice and the resulting doctrine of soteriology.

One of the most interesting things that I observed when looking at Herbert's 'Death' (which I have reproduced below from Helen Wilcox's edition), is how the poem follows this Biblical chronology of transforming death into a positive event. In relation to this, it also constructs a powerful pictorial representation of death's transfiguration by drawing upon its personified form as a skeletal figure that was seen in the meditatio mortis tradition of the Renaissance. In Herbert’s poem, the figure of death is gradually transformed from being the fear-inducing figure of this artistic tradition, where it is 'nothing but bones', to a figure that, 'since our Saviors death', is 'clad' with 'beauty' and can be 'much sought for as a good'.

When researching other primary sources which support or echo this transfiguration that Herbert enacts, I came across a fascinating source entitled Death's Universall Summons (EEBO) published in 1650. Whilst obviously published some time after Herbert's death in 1633, this anonymous work presents a discourse between 'the great Messenger of Mortality' and 'a presumptious Sinner', and it concludes with this man's 'chearful Entertainment of Death' (p. 1). Apart from a similar transfiguration of a Christian individual's attitude to death, what also struck me was this illustration included on the pamphlet's title page:

I would suggest that this skeletal figure (who is certainly an allusion to the meditatio mortis tradition seen in Renaissance art such as Hans Holbein's The Ambassadors) is very similar to the terrifying figure that Herbert alludes to in the first half of his poem. Furthermore, like the conclusion of Herbert's poem where his speaker welcomes death 'as a good', this dialogue also concludes with the Sinner confidently stating that 'my Friend [Death] I do Embrace' (p. 8). Because of Christ's own transfiguration of death, the Sinner has realised that the Christian can, in the spiritual and physical sense respectively, 'go Live for-ever, yet for-ever Die!' (p. 7) by greeting this personified figure of death.

I was so excited when I came across this obscure pamphlet in my research around Herbert's poem, and I'd love to hear if anyone else has found any other similar transfigurations of death in some of the more obscure religious literature of the seventeenth-century (whether poetic or otherwise!).

‘Death’

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing,

                           Nothing but bones,

      The sad effect of sadder groans:

Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

For we considered thee as at some six

                           Or ten years hence,

      After the loss of life and sense,

Flesh being turned to dust, and bones to sticks.

We looked on this side of thee, shooting short;

                         Where we did find

      The shells of fledge souls left behind,

Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.

But since our Savior’s death did put some blood

                           Into thy face,

      Thou art grown fair and full of grace,

Much in request, much sought for as a good.

For we do now behold thee gay and glad,

                           As at Doomsday;

      When souls shall wear their new array,

And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad.

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust

                           Half that we have

      Unto an honest faithful grave;

Making our pillows either down, or dust.

• George Herbert, ‘Death’, in The English Poems of George Herbert, ed. by Wilcox, p. 648. 
• Death's Universall Summons: or, A General Call; to all Mankind, to the Grave: in a Dialogue Betwixt a Presumptious Sinner, and the Great Messenger of Mortality (London: [n. pub.], 1650), in EEBO.
• The Book of Common Prayer: 1559 The Elizabethan Prayer Book, ed. by John E. Booty.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Welcome to my blog!

The first post on a new blog is always the hardest to do, so I will try to confine it to a brief introduction to me and what I hope to use this blog for.

I have just finished my undergraduate degree in English Literature at Loughborough University, and will be moving on to MA study with an Early Modern focus (unsurprisingly!) in September. I am super excited about getting stuck into my MA, as writing my dissertation this year has really opened my eyes to the veritable treasure trove of seventeenth century work that is out there, a lot of it which is still to be discovered! My dissertation focused on the religious poetry of George Herbert's The Temple. It sought to group together some of his poems into what I would describe as three age-appropriate groups which related specifically to the concerns or experiences of his young, adult,  and aged readers. This enabled me to really get a handle on the versatility of Herbert's poetry, and allowed me to see how his range of poetic techniques allowed him to construct and frame specific poems (such as 'JESU' or 'H. Baptisme (I)' which I suggested were particularly applicable to the younger Christian reader) in a manner that was most suited to an individual group of his readership; thereby allowing them to have the most relevance.

Even though there is still the long stretch of summer before I begin my MA, I am pretty sure that I would like to shift my focus from religious poetry, and return to looking at women's writing in the seventeenth century, whilst retatining my interest in the century's social culture and context. I am particularly keen to broaden my knowledge of what female writers achieved in literature that was not primarily creative or fictional (I'm thinking here of Aphra Behn). Instead, I would like to explore those women, such as Hannah Woolley or Jane Sharp, whose literary work was focused upon conveying knowledge of household management or medicine. This is something that is completely new to me, but I'm ready to get stuck in!

So, that's a quick overview of my academic interests, but what about this blog? What I am primarily hoping to use it for is to share interesting snippets of seventeenth-century works as I come across them, some artistic or literary miscellany from the period, and also to share my own ideas and thoughts on my work and life as a postgraduate as I progress next year.

I am fairly new to this blogging malarkey, so am more than happy to receive comments and feedback from anyone that happens across it (complimentary or critical!), as I am always looking to improve my knowledge of any new project that I embark on!

Thank you for reading, and I promise that my next post will be far more interesting! But in the mean time, here is a wonderful little manuscript image with a caption that I came across via Robert Miller (see links below):

'With this bagel, I thee wed'

• Origin of manuscript image: Royal MS 6 E VI, f. 104r. See, http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/record.asp?MSID=7788&CollID=16&NStart=60506
• Robert Miller, britishlibrary.typepad.co.uk/digitisedmanuscripts/2013/05/of-captions-clerics-and-queens-tweeting-the-medieval-illuminated-manuscript.html 

© Jenna Townend 2013