Wellcome Images

As I'm sure most of you will have already heard today, all of the Wellcome images previously out of copyright have now been made freely available! Hurrah! Head over to wellcomeimages.org to have a browse, if you haven't already done so.

Given this wonderful news, I thought I would share a few of my favourite images that I've found as I have been having a browse through the hundreds of thousands that are available this afternoon.

'Wound man', 15th century

'Game of Heaven and Hell' - late 18th century (or, Snakes and Ladders!)

'The Massacre of Hugenots at Tours'

'A chiropodist treating a patient's foot'

'A Travelling Medicine Vendor', 1635

'Anatomical Illustration of a Pregnant Woman', 1634

'A Deformed Face', 1632

All images are taken from Wellcome Images.

© Jenna Townend 2014

Hannah Woolley's homemade spirits

My blog has been rather neglected over the last couple of months. Sadly, the pressures of MA life have just meant that it has had to sit gathering dust for a little while. However, that is about to change! I have a couple of weeks off before my second semester starts, so I'm looking forward to getting lots of blogging done from the comfort of my sofa!

I thought I'd kick things off today with a topic that has probably been quite close to the hearts (or livers) of all Loughborough English and Drama students and staff in recent days: alcohol. The former, due to celebratory antics as coursework deadlines pass, and the latter, as an aid to all the marking we have inflicted on them!

Now, we're all quite used to popping down to the supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for a Friday or Saturday night, and having a dazzling array of price ranges to choose from. But what options were available for our seventeenth-century ancestors? Hannah Woolley has some ingenious homemade suggestions in The Accomplish'd Lady's Delight.

To Make Artificial Claret:

Take six gallons of water, two gallons of the best Syder, put thereto eight pound of the best Malaga raisins bruised in a Morter, let them stand close covered in a warm place the space of a fortnight, every two days stirring them well together; then press out the Raisins and put the liquor into the sid Vessel again, to which add a quart of the juice of Ras-berries, and a pint of the juice of black Cherries; cover this liquor with bread spread thick with strong Mustard, the Mustardseed being downward, and so let it work by the fire side three or four days, then turn it up and let it stand a week, and then bottle it up, and it will tast as quick as bottle Beer and become a very pleasant drink, and indeed far better and wholsomer then our common Claret (pp. 38-39).

To Make Black-Cherry Wine:

Take a Gallon of the juice of Black-Cherries, keep it in a Vessel close stopped, till it begin to work, then filter it, and an Ounce of Sugar being added to every Pint, and a Gallon of White-Wine, and so keep it close stopped for Use (pp. 81-82).

'To Make Syder:

Take a Peck of Apples and slice them, and boyl them in a Barrel of Water, till the third part be wasted; then cool your water as you do for Wort, and when it is cold, you must pour the water upon three Measures of grown Apples. Then draw sorth the Water at a Tap three or four times a day, for three days together. Then press out the Liquor, and Tun it up; when it hath done working, stop it up close (p. 90). 

Unfortunately, Woolley offers no information on alcohol percentages, so it's perhaps best to air on the side of caution when attempting to make these concoctions at home!

Image courtesy of foodsofengland.co.uk

References:

Hannah Woolley, The Accomplish'd Lady's Delight (London: B. Harris, 1675), in EEBO.

Cutting and pasting: 'Mikrokosmographia', anatomy, and the tools of dissection

In just a slight contrast to last week's post on the art of courtship, today I am sharing some wonderful information on seventeenth-century anatomy, dissection and the necessary tools for which to perform the task. The extracts are taken from Helkiah Crooke's text, Mikrokosmographia (1615), who was the physician of James I.

Taken from the frontispiece of the 1615 edition

Mikrokosmographia certainly forms part of the increasingly large body of medical texts, with a particular focus on anatomy and dissection, that emerged during the late sixteenth- and early seventeenth- centuries. Anatomy and its study had finally becomes much less of a thorny religious or ethical issue (as it had been during the time that Leonardo Da Vinci was conducting his studies, for example), and had widely become accepted as an important component of medical study and practice. This is certainly evidenced in the following extracts, since Crooke sees it fit to even include meticulous detail about the tools needed to conduct anatomical investigation.

As ever, the text and its later editions can be found on EEBO, and I have preserved the early-modern spelling of the original text.

'Now there is amongest Physitians, a double acceptation of Anatomy; either it signifieth the action which is done with the hande; or the habite of the minde, that is, the most perfect action of the intellect. The first is called practicall Anatomy, the latter Theorical or contemplatiue: the first is gained by experience, the second by reason and discourse: the first wee attaine onely by Section and Inspection, the second by the living voice of a Teacher, or by their learned writings' (D1r).

'We may define anatomy thus: An Artificiall Section of the outward and inward partes. I call it Artificiall to distinguish it from that which is rash and at aduenture which Galen calleth Vulnerary Dissection. For oftentimes in great wounds we obserue the figure, scitua|tion, magnitude, and structure of the outward and inward parts; but that obseruation is but confused, for we cannot distinctly perceiue the branchings of the Nerues, the Serpentine and writhen Meanders of the Veynes, nor the infinite divarications of the Arteries' (D1r).

'This Section cannot artificially bee accomplished, unlesse the Ministers haue convenient Instruments, as are these; Razors of all sortes, great, small, meane, sharpe, blunt, straight, crooked, and edged on both sides; Sheares or Sizers; round and large long Probes of Brasse, Siluer, Lead; a Knife of Box or of Ivory, Pincers of all sorts; hooks, Needels bent rather then straite, Reeds, Quils, Glasse-trunkes or hollow Bugles to blowe up the parts, Threds and strings, Sawes, Bodkins, Augers, Mallets, Wimbles or Trepans, Basons and Sponges; the Figures of all which wee have heereunder delineated, together with a Table whereon to lay the dead, or binde the living Anatomy, with the rings, chains, cords, & perforations fit for that purpose' (D1r).

References:
Helkiah Crooke, Mikrokosmographia: a Description of the Body of Man (London: William Iaggard, 1615), in EEBO.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Freshers and 'The Art of Courtship'

It's freshers' fortnight here at Loughborough. I'm not entirely sure where the last year has gone, but here we are again! While things are settling down, and everybody is getting into their new routines, I thought I would share with you this rather lighthearted post.

Inevitably, during freshers' week, one will witness (whether one wants to or not) the blossoming romances in the new intake of first years. (Please note that I use the term 'romance' rather loosely!) Whilst I was doing some research and searches on EEBO in my department this afternoon, I had a moment of serendipity and stumbled across an anonymous work entitled The Art of Courtship, and this got me thinking about how much the idea of 'courtship' has morphed and altered over the centuries. Gone are the days of escorts, suitors, exchanges of letters, sequences of love poems, and in, at least during freshers' fortnight (although even that might be a little optimistic!), are the quick snogs over an alcho-pop in the Students' Union. 

Whilst I am certainly not looking back on seventeenth-century courtship with any sort of hazy nostalgia, seeing as there were certainly some pretty binding restrictions on women's conduct, I did think that tonight it would be fun to share with you all a few of my favourite extracts from this wonderful work! The text is essentially a compilation of poems, sequences of letters and short meditations on love and courtship, so below you'll find the three that I have picked out and transcribed. 

'Posies' (A7r)
My love shall be,
Forever free,
Naught shall devide,
The knot we've ty'd
By Death alone,
It is undone.

My joy thou art;
Till life is past,
My love shall last,
My love I place
On thy sweet face.
'Tis thou in me,
Shall happy be,
And hast my heart.

From 'The Delights of Marriage' (A8v)
How happy Celia is it, now we are
In wedlock joyn'd and made a happy pair
'Tis true, my Strephon, we have joys,
That few the like can find;
A passion that no time destroys,
Is fix'd in eithers mind

'Loves Power and Cruelty' (A8v)
Lightning is swifter then the glance, of charmin beauty, for 'tho seen by chance it penetrates the Soul, and fires the mind, that wretched Lovers no contentment find; but cruel torments, a tormenting grief, seizes the wretch that's void of a relief.

References:
Anon., The Art of Courtship: or, The School of Delight (London: I. Back, 1686), in EEBO.

© Jenna Townend 2013

Holinshed, the body and Marlowe's 'Edward II' - Part 2

The cell in which Edward was reportedly held at Berkeley Castle

Firstly, I apologise for the delay in uploading this second post. I have been stuck on jury service for a couple of weeks! In the first part of these two posts on Marlowe's Edward II, I outlined the account of Edward's murder from Holinshed's Chronicles. In this post, I will now consider how Marlowe uses the corporeal and physical focus of Holinshed's material within the most significant speeches of his murder scene that occurs in Act V Scene v. 

In his celebrated account of Marlow's play, Charles Lamb concluded that 'the death scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted'. This is certainly something that I would agree with. The transformation of Edward from arrogant monarch to degraded and tortured prisoner is just as shocking each time I come back to it.

This is one of my favourite speeches of the murder scene, spoken by Edward:

'And there in mire and puddle have I stood
This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a drum.
They give me bread and water, being a king,
So that for want of sleep and sustenance
My mind's distempered and my body's numbed,
And whether I have limbs or no, I know not.
O, would my blood dropped out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tattered robes' (V.v.58-66).

In this speech, what the audience sees is a focus on the disorder of Edward's body. He is no longer the monarch in total control of his own self, or with the authority to dictate the existences of other beings around him (although this was clearly affected by Gaveston's control over Edward). Instead, Edward appears in symbolically 'tattered robes' and is tortured through his sense of hearing and taste, causing a great disparity between, and separation of, his immaterial and physical self: 'my mind's distempered and my body's numbed'. As though this unbearable feeling were not enough, Marlowe takes it one step further, as Edward states that he does not even know 'whether I have limbs or no', thus becoming totally dissociated from his physical being.

By creating such highly emotive speeches, I would suggest that the corporeal focus of Marlowe's text goes beyond what Holinshed achieves in his account. By having such torturous images and expressions spoken by his protagonist, Marlowe makes it even harder for his audience to ignore the cruelty of Edward's imprisonment and murder. Hence, what I think Marlowe achieves by including these speeches as a pre-amble to the actual murder, is that he succeeds in increasing the audience's sense of Edward's extreme suffering, causing them to re-consider the justice that is apparently achieved by killing him in such a disturbingly retributive and medieval manner.

A depiction of Edward II's death 

 References:
1. Christopher Marlowe, Edward II, ed. by Martin Wiggins and Robert Lindsey (London: A & C Black, 2006)
2. Cell at Berkeley Castle: http://allkindsofhistory.wordpress.com/2011/03/17/they-dont-like-it-up-em-revisiting-the-sordid-deaths-of-edmund-ironside-edward-ii-and-james-i-of-scotland/
3. Depiction of Edward's death: http://www.glreview.org/article/article-1403/

© Jenna Townend 2013

Holinshed and Marlowe's 'Edward II' - Part 1

This blog post is going to form the first part of two pieces that I want to do on Christopher Marlowe's Edward II. In this first one, though, I would like to briefly highlight one of the primary sources for Marlowe's play; in particular, the scene of Edward's death that occurs in Act V Scene v. 

It is well documented that Marlowe's dominant historical source for his portrayal of Edward's death was Raphael Holinshed's Chronicles. The Chronicles are a text that I know from experience is consistently bandied around in lectures on early-modern British drama, but sadly we do not always, or are not able to, take the time to look at how it informed those that used it as a primary source in their work. It was, of course, from this source that Marlowe extracted the gruesome details of Edward's murder, and the following passage is the account of Edward's death taken from Holinshed:

'they came suddenlie one night into the chamber where he laie in bed fast asléepe, and with heauie featherbeds or a table (as some write) being cast vpon him, they kept him down and withall put into his fundament an horne, and through the same they thrust vp into his bodie an hot spit, or (as other haue) through the pipe of a trumpet a plumbers instrument of iron made verie hot, the which passing vp into his intrailes, and being rolled to and fro, burnt the same, but so as no appearance of any wound or hurt outwardlie might be once perceiued. His crie did mooue manie within the castell and towne of Berkley to compassion, plainelie hearing him vtter a wailefull noise, as the tormentors were about to murther him, so that diuerse being awakened therewith (as they themselues confessed) praied heartilie to God to receiue his soule, when they vnderstood by his crie what the matter ment' (p. 342).

The extraordinary, medieval nature of Edward's murder in Holinshed's account is impossible to overlook. He is guilty of buggery, and so at the moment of his death he too is buggered by a 'hot spit'. However, what is equally remarkable about Holinshed's account is its sustained corporeal focus. Not only are we given this information about what would be referred to today as the murder weapon, but Holinshed also treats us to more gruesome physical details about the murder. The 'hot spit' passes 'vp into [Edward's] intrailes', and is 'rolled to and fro', presumably to cause the most excruciating amount of pain. For Holinshed, it would seem, this is the supposedly accurate account of a murder in which his readers are to be left in no doubt as to the level of its brutality.

So, having outlined this source material that Marlowe undoubtedly used when formulating the action of the scene in which his Edward II is murdered, in my next post I will explore how Marlowe uses Holinshed's material, with all of its corporeal and physical focus, within the most significant speeches of his murder scene. 

References:

1. Raphael Holinshed, The Third volume of Chronicles (London: Henry Denham, 1586), in EEBO.

2. Frontispiece of Holinshed's Chronicles, as above.

3. Image of Edward II: http://kinemage.biochem.duke.edu/panther/scarborough/html/index.edward.p.html

© Jenna Townend 2013

Giovanni Bracelli: early modern Cubist?

Giovanni Battista Bracelli was, by all accounts, an Italian engraver and artist based in Florence in the early part of the seventeenth century. It was during this time that he compiled his little-known work Bizzarie di Varie Figure, which was published in 1624. It contains what are certainly some of the most highly inventive drawings of human-like figures of the period, which were sadly lost to the world until the re-discovery of the text in, or around, 1950.

As Sue Welsh Reed indicates, the Bizzarie shows characteristics of the artistic style called Mannerism,
which originated in Italy in the sixteenth century: 'the term derives from the Italian word maniera, meaning style. It is applied to a way of working that was developed to oppose the idealized naturalism of the Renaissance as practiced by Raphael and others'.

Below I have shared three of my favourite engravings from Bracelli's work. As several other scholars working on Bracelli have indicated, the figures in the Bizzarie certainly seem to be a kind of prescient for the modern artistic trend of Cubism.

Stumbling across these wonderful drawings were a welcome break from the rather gory reading that I've been doing this week, and certainly gives me a different slant on considering the early modern body!

References:
1. I owe the origin of these images from the Bizzarie (which are sadly not available on EEBO), to this article on Bracelli that was written in 2005: http://www.spamula.net/blog/2005/08/bracelli.html
2. For a more detailed commentary on Bracelli and his work, as well as a more comprehensive biography, see this pdf file: http://mail.nysoclib.org/Braccelli_Bizzarie_di_varie_figure/BCLBZR.PDF

© Jenna Townend 2013

Vlog: dream dinner party guests from history

So over the last few days I decided that I would get a little creative with my posts, and this is the result! I've chosen to do a video blog on the five historical figures that I would invite to my fantasy dinner party, and have given a little explanation as to why I have picked each one. I realise that this isn't the most academic of blog posts, but I thought that it might make a nice change from the ordinary.

I definitely still have a lot to learn about editing videos and splicing them together, so please excuse me if this video is not the smoothest in terms of its editing, or indeed my presentation! I promise that if I decide to do another vlog I will brush up on my technical skills.

I hope you enjoy watching the video, and I would love to hear some of the historical figures that you might all choose too!

Birth, babies and midwives

In light of the birth of the Royal baby on Monday and the newly breaking news that he will go by the name of George Alexander Louis, I thought that now is a particularly apt time to reflect on how our ideas, and indeed experiences, of birth have changed (or not, as the case may be!) over the centuries from the early-modern period.

Much medical and gynecological knowledge available in the seventeenth-century stemmed from translations of classical sources, including Galen and Hippocrates. In a culture dominated by male translations and reflections on these works, such as those of Nicholas Culpeper, Jane Sharp's achievement in The Midwives Book (1671) is perhaps one of the most remarkable in terms of helping our understanding of labour and birth in the seventeenth century. Though her treatise is an amalgamation of voices since she essentially cuts and pastes sections from other midwifery manuals and classical sources, her own voice and tone is often unmistakable.

Though midwives (thankfully?!) do not now 'annoint [their] hands with Oyl of Lillies, and the Womans Secrets' (p. 153) and instead favour latex gloves for internal examinations, much of what I have transcribed below certainly still has echoes with the modern practice of midwifery.

In Book IV of her text, Sharp sets out 'Rules for Women that are come to their Labour':

- 'When the Patient feels her Throws coming she should walk easily in her Chamber, and then again lye down, keep her self warm, rest her self and then stir again, till she feels the waters coming down and the womb to open; let her not lye long a bed, yet she may lye sometimes and sleep to strengthen her, and to abate pain' (p. 145).

- 'Take notice that all women do not keep the same posture in their delivery; some lye in their beds, being very weak, some sit in a stool or chair, or rest upon the side of the bed, held by other women that come to the Labor' (p. 153).

- 'The danger were much to force delivery, because when the woman hath laboured sore, if she rest not a while, she will not be able presently to endure it, her strength being spent before' (p. 156).

As we can see from these excerpts, though our medical knowledge surrounding labour and its complexities has of course changed dramatically, some of this most basic, yet credible, advice for a woman giving birth is really not so different to what mothers are told today.

Whilst here I have spoken about the intrapartum element of childbirth, if you are interested in what Sharp recommends for the postpartum care of new mothers, I would definitely recommend that you head over and have a read of Jennifer Evans's blog on this very subject! Take a look at it here: http://earlymodernmedicine.com/beyond-birth/

1. Jane Sharp, The Midwives Book, ed. by Elaine Hobby (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
2. Frontispiece image taken from the electronic edition of The Midwives Book on EEBO.
3. An engraving of a pregnant woman on a birthing stool, surrounded by her midwife and gossips. Source: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1449803/

© Jenna Townend 2013

Review: 'This I Warn You in Love': Witness of Some Early Quaker Women

The world of female Quakers who lived, operated, and preached in the seventeenth century is still a relatively untilled field of early-modern research. A couple of weeks ago, I did a post on Dorothea Gotherson, and her firm belief in the necessity of female modesty and decorum. I was pointed to Gotherson's work from reading 'This I Warn You in Love': Witness of Some Quaker Women, a booklet that was written by two of my lecturers at Loughborough, Elaine Hobby and Catie Gill, and published this year by The Kindlers. The booklet was so insightful and thought provoking, that I thought I would give an overview of it here!

The booklet is set out with an introduction to the fundamental principles of Quaker women, and an account of the movement's progression during the seventeenth century. One of the most significant things that the introduction notes is that Quaker writers, and thus Quaker women, believed their relationship with God to be intensely personal, and that God was working with them. This is something that is explicitly present in several of the extracts transcribed in the booklet. Furthermore, the introduction explains the fact that Quakers had a great dislike of the strict formalities that had come to dominate religious worship. Quakers firmly believed that these practices had distanced Christians from the dedication seen in early Christianity, and were keen to encourage worshippers to re-engage with it. This, too, is shown to be a recurring theme throughout the excerpts in the booklet.

There are six excerpts in the booklet, focusing on the work of the following Quaker women: Sarah Blackborow, Margaret Abbott, Priscilla Cotton, Mary Cole, Katherine Evans, Sarah Cheevers, Dorothea Gotherson, Margaret Killin, Barbara Patison, Hester Biddle and Dorothy Waugh. As well as these prose extracts in the booklet, an audio recording of them is also included on a CD. Hearing these accounts being read aloud really brings them to life, and the words of these Quaker women take on a new resonance. 

Below I have picked out a couple of my favourite sections from the work of Sarah Blackborow and Margaret Abbott that highlight the potential for a highly personal relationship with God, and the dislike of highly-organised and formal worship or religion.

1) Sarah Blackborow, A Visit to the Spirit in Prison (1658):
'A love there is which doth not cease to the seed of God in you all; and therefore doth invite you everyone, priest and people, to return in to it, that into Wisdom's house you may come, where there is a feast provided of all things well refined'.

2) Margaret Abbott, A Testimony against the False Teachers of this Generation (1658):
'You shall be made anew by the power of the pure spirit of the Son of God. It will teach you to deny all ungodliness. You shall need go to no man to be taught. It will bring you out of all the ways of the world, fashions, customs and traditions...'

The tenacity, self-belief, and sheer determination of these radical women is remarkable, and I would urge anyone with an interest in religious writing to get hold of a copy of this booklet; it will certainly open your eyes to this fascinating world.

'Male and Female Quakers at their Assembly', French School, 17th century

Source: http://firstyear.barnard.edu/americas/puritans/images

© Jenna Townend 2013

Dorothea Gotherson: in search of demureness and decorum

A lot of people will have heard of several prominent Quaker preachers, such as George Fox, from the early days of the movement in the seventeenth-century. However, often relegated to the shadows of history (but thankfully enjoying a resurgence in popularity in recent years), are the Quaker women who were equally fundamental in the establishment of the Quaker movement in England, and further afield. One of these women was Dorothea Gotherson.

In this extract of To All that Are Unregenerated, Gotherson takes the female fashions of Charles II’s court to task, and criticises them for their ostentatiousness and vanity. For Quakers, the decorum and modesty required in an individual’s spiritual life should be visible in all aspects of their person, including their clothing and appearance. It is surely not surprising, therefore, that the court was Gotherson’s chosen target, given its infamy for indulgence.

The persona that Gotherson presents in this excerpt (and indeed for much of the rest of her work), is, I’m sure you’ll agree, absolutely marvellous. I think that it is a brilliant example of Quaker women as prophetesses.

‘And all ye Ladies of England, who walk with stretched-out necks, and wanton eyes, mincing as you go, and making a clattering with your feet, curling your hair, and painting and spotting your faces, wearing gorgeous array, and the like; why consider, when  you come to give an account for all things done in the body, where will you appear? For none of this adornes the Gospel; God works none of these works in you or for you; and one day you shall know you have not lived and moved in him, for he is the author of none of this: you shall not have so much time for sinning as you have had heretofore if you will not bow to the righteous law written in the heart, that which reproves in secret for these and all other sins, you shall fall and perish in them; for in the grave there is no repentance. Let no blinde guide or merchant of souls sell you any longer to work wickedness…’ (pp. 77-9). 

1. Dorothea Gotherson, To All That are Unregenerated a Call to Repentance (London: 1661), in EEBO.

An excellent introduction to the work of early Quaker women (including more of an insight into Dorothea Gotherson) can be found in 'This I Warn You In Love': Witness of Some Early Quaker Women, a short book written by Elaine Hobby and Catie Gill and published this year by The Kindlers.

© 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