Some things never change
Aug. 17th, 2017 10:54 am( Cut for dated, racist language )
Federal Attorney Charles E. Boles, in a legal memo for the U.S. Post Office during WWI, on the black paper's reportings of lynchings.
*shudder*
Volunteers bring to life the world of the Victorian poor
http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/news/stories/224.htm?news=rss
"Volunteers around England and Wales are embarking on an exciting project to unearth the often sad and gruesome world of the Victorian poor. Led by The National Archives, the 'Living the Poor Life' project will involve more than 200 local and family historians in cataloguing memos, letters and reports held within the records of 22 Poor Law Unions....
Therefore it is that one accused [Page 6] of being a witch ought never to be folly [sic] acquitted and set free unless the calumny of the accuser is clearer than the sun, inasmuch as the proof of such crimes is so obscure and so difficult that not one witch in a million would be accused or punished if the procedure were governed by the ordinary rules. . . .
For the stinkinge of the breath, and to make the teeth whyte.
Take a pound of skimmed Hony, halfe a pound of Aqua vite, three onces of Lignum aloe, two onces of gomme Arabick, Nuttemegges, Galingale, Cububes, Cinamome, Masticke, Cloves, Spic, and Lavander new, anna three drammes, tow drammes of Amber beaten, mix all this together, & still water of it in a limbeck, and this water will take away the stinking of the breath, whiten the teeth, and maintaine helth long.
A water to make cleane teeth.
Take salt Armoniac, and salt Gemma, three onces of eche one, an once & a halfe of alumen Sucharinum, and distill it, or temper it in two pound of water, the space of eight daies, & with this licour distilled or so tempered, you shal rubbe your teeth & they will be whyte.
Another water to whiten teeth,
Take a pound of salt well purged, and beaten, an once of Alumen Glaciale, & distill it in a limbeck, and mingle an once of the water, with an once of Plantaine water, and rubbe your teeth with the composition, and with cotten, and they will be white and cleane.
To take away the smell of Garlike, Leekes, or Onyons.
After that you have eaten Garlike, Leekes, or Onions, take the roote of Beete, & rost it under embers, and eate it, & you shall see the effect; or els eate a piece of the rote of Zeduaria, & you shal not smell at all, and this is easier to be done than with the roote of Beete.
"Well, that's true, of course. Nothing could possibly excuse deliberate falsification."
"There's no sense in deliberate falsification, anyhow," said the Bursar. "What could anybody gain by it?"
"It has been done," said Miss Hillyard, "frequently. To get the better of an argument. Or out of ambition."
"Ambition to be what?" cried Miss Lydgate. "What satisfaction could one possibly get out of a reputation one knew one didn't deserve? It would be horrible."
Elizabeth I of England, educated as a humanist princess, was a perfect exemplar of this new Italian civility...Elizabeth was known to be fussy about her health-- she hated being ill. She preserved her health and lived to old age by apparently following a sensible humanist health regimen; she ate and drank abstemiously, took plenty of exercise, and undoubtedly owned a copy of Sir Thomas Elyot's hugely successful Castel of Helth (1539; five editions by 1560), dedicated to her father's chief minister Thomas Cromwell. She always travelled with her bed and hip bath, and had bathing facilities in all of her palaces, including a sweat bath-- her 'warm box' or 'warm nest' -- inherited from her father at Richmond, her favorite palace. At Richmond she also installed a prototype of the water closet, the invention of her godson "Boy Jack," Sir John Harington (translator of the Salerno Regimen). At Whitehall, Elizabeth also had a hot room with a ceramic tiled stove, as well as a large bath and grooming suite, both inherited from her father, in which to spend time with her intimate companions. This suite was effectively her Cabinet of the Morning. It contained her bedroom, and next to it a 'a fine bathroom... [where] the water pours from oyster shells and different kinds of rock'. Next to the bathroom was a room with an organ 'on which two people can play duets, also a large chest completely covered in silk, and a clock which plays times by striking a bell'. Next to this was a room 'where the Queen keeps her books'. Indeed royal baths were so a la mode that a bathhouse was specially built for Mary, Queen of Scots, at Holyrood Palace in the late 1560s; so there is no reason to think that Queen Elizabeth I did not thoroughly enjoy her monthly bath 'whether she needed it or no' (probably at the time of the menses) and was certainly likely to have taken them more often than that, when returning to Richmond or Whitehall after a long cold journey or a dusty ride on a hot afternoon.
In any case she would have known all about baths, being well versed in the 'arts of adornment' and having a passionate interest in Italian cosmetics.
The trouble with most people is, they bow to what is called authority; they have a certain reverence for the old because it is old. They think a man is better for being dead, especially if he has been dead a long time. They think the fathers of their nation were the greatest and best of all mankind. All these things they implicitly believe because it is popular and patriotic, and because they were told so when they were very small, and remember distinctly of hearing mother read it out of a book. It is hard to over-estimate the influence of early training in the direction of superstition.
...theriac served as an antidote for all poisons and afflictions; it was part of the ancient physician's armamentarium for prevention as well as treatment of disease. The recipe for theriac varied but usually included vipers' flesh, parts of lizards, honey, plants, and herbs or spices (even ginger, cinnamon, and myrrh). Theriac's ingredients (40 to 60 separate items) were a closely held secret, passed along in poetic verse... Theriac, also later referred to as treacle, existed in the pharmacopoeia of Western physicians and pharmacies until the 1700s.
-- Janet M. Torpy. "The Cover," JAMA, October 3, 2007-- Vol 298, No. 13, p. 1483