Privies

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these presentations, continuing with Privies.

Pop to the loo, go, flush, wash. Nothing could be simpler in the modern world but it wasn't always like this. Our parents, grandparents, and earlier generations had to toddle off down the path to the privy at the bottom of garden. During warm summer days the hole in a board with no flush or sewage system sounds bad enough - but after dark and in the depths of winter armed with only a candle? A number of narratives from the Toilet Tales of Yesteryear and told as only the British can.

Gongfermors, or night soil men, were charged with emptying privies. They would do this regularly, the regularity depending on the size of the pit below. One such pit was in the Bishop’s Medieval Palace in Lincoln, where the detritus down the pit would be cleared out regularly – every 50 years, on average.

Another tale comes from Europe and the thoroughly dislikeable Frederick Barbarossa. Even the man himself realised how much he was hated, and knowing he was most likely to be assassinated whilst paying a visit, ordered that nobody should visit the privy unless he did.

With the whole entourage answering a call of nature together – be they male or female – it put a great deal of strain on the wooden flooring. Eventually the combination of the weight of people and the rotting wood resulted in the floor giving way and several ‘visitors’ disappeared into the morass below – four of whom were never seen or heard of again.

Finally I once discovered a large urinal in a museum, where an image of a bee was to be seen at around knee height. When I asked why it was there, I was told it was a target – hit the target, no splash back. I then asked why a bee, and was told because the Latin name for a bee is apis. And they say these Victorians had no sense of humour.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Jane Frearson

Jane Frearson had lived at the Bell Inn in Derby for some five months, employed as a kitchen maid by Mrs Wightman. She had returned to the area after spending time in Sheffield, again as a domestic servant, having previously lived with her parents at Normanton.

Tuesday 19th January 1830, and at the Bell Inn a most gruesome discovery was made. A newborn female infant had been discovered among the detritus in the privy at the public house. At the inquest, also held at the Bell Inn, medical opinion suggested the child had been alive at birth, there was no outward appearance of any injuries and nothing to suspect internal injuries. The child had probably died shortly after birth. The inquest decided Frearson should face charges and was given bail awaiting her appearance in court.

The case came to court on Wednesday 28th April 1830, where she faced a charge of concealing the birth of her infant bastard child. The court decided to acquit her, and Frearson walked free. It later transpired that Frearson had been seduced by a member of the family while working in Sheffield at the home of what was considered a respectable family. Finding herself with child, she returned to Derby, securing the job at the Bell Inn. Here she attempted to hide her pregnancy, but in the later stages it was clear to all and when the infant was discovered in the privy there was no doubting who the mother was. Frearson claimed the child had been alive at birth but died shortly after, medics could not determine whether the child would have lived had she sought medical help.

Whether Jane Frearson would have faced more serious charges today is uncertain. Contemporary reports do not touch on her mental state, nor go into any details as to how she became pregnant, the reaction of her employers in Sheffield, or why she left their employ.

Injustice?

On Wednesday 20th January inquest before J T Bagley, coroner, on the body of a female infant found in the privy of the Bell Inn, Derby. Both medical men interviewed, Mr Harwood and Mr Jones, were of the opinion the child had been alive when deposited there, certainly they thought it had been born alive. But witnesses said the infant had been stillborn and the jury were in agreement that the infant had been put there to conceal the birth. Jane Frearson, the mother, had lived at the Bell Inn for five months working as a kitchen maid; previously with a highly respectable family in Sheffield, and before going to Mrs Wightman’s was living with parents at Normanton. She was held awaiting trial at the next borough sessions – where she was acquitted through a lack of evidence to show the child had been born alive.

Nagged to Death

Thursday 23rd May 1884 and John Hubbard, a labourer describes as ‘about 50’, of Lower Sandford Street is said to have attempted suicide. The previous evening his wife had accused him of being drunk, yet John was a renowned tee-totaller. A row ensued.

Next day he went to work as usual only to return to more accusations of drunkenness. It is said his wife went ‘out to the back’ – probably to use the privy – and on her return found him on the sofa, a razor in his hand and his throat cut. Upon which he told her “I’ve done it now, you won’t accuse me again”. Mr Welchman was sent for and he dressed the very deep and serious wound – he is not expected to live and, judging by the lack of further information, ceased to be newsworthy.

A Call of Nature

Following on from the look back at my Staffordshire Privies last time, here is an examination of the development of some of the terminologies.

Spend a Penny – Obviously the reference is to the coin-operated locks on the toilet doors which were once operated by a penny, obviously the pre-decimal version. It certainly did not come from the earliest known public toilet to charge a fee – the building still stands and is officially known as the Flavian Amphitheatre, although more often described as the Colosseum in Rome. Completed in 80AD, the Romans not only charged customers to use the facilities but also collected the urine and sold in on for use as a degreasing agent in making cloth. Charging to empty one’s bladder and then selling it on – that really is taking the proverbial!

The bog – is an expression which has been reversed for the room was originally known as the boghouse. This means ‘bog’ began as a verb and alludes to the consistency. Indeed this was the original meaning of the Saxon scit or ‘muddy’.

Dunny – is Australian slang and an example of how phrases from English, now obsolete in Britain, have endured in the former colonies. As with many Australian expressions this is an abbreviation, itself from a term seen as dunnick, dunnekin, dunnyken or dunnakin, depending upon the region. These can be traced back to danna, recorded since at least the eighteenth century and used to describe, quite specifically, human solid waste.

Kharzi – also seen as carsey (and anything between the two), first makes an appearances at the time of British rule in India and said to have been brought back to our shores around this time. This undoubtedly is down to the term being associated with the similar-sounding ‘khaki’, which does have its origins on the sub-continent unlike the toilet reference. Possibly this comes from casa or ‘house’ and simply a reference to the smallest room.

Loo – may have more explanations than almost any toilet terminology, none of which are at all certain. Most simple is from the French l’eau meaning simply ‘water’, but this hardly fits with the facts as the water closet did not come into general use until the twentieth century and the term was in use a hundred years earlier. Perhaps this is an abbreviation of another slang term of ‘waterloo’? Again this does not make any sense as the water factor did not exist until much later, hence this term is more likely to be from ‘loo’ rather than vice versa. Next we have ‘gardyloo’, a term once popular in Scotland meaning ‘watch out!’. Said to hail from the French gardez l’eau and a reference to the slops thrown (usually from an upstairs window) into the street below in the days before sewage systems. All these are undoubtedly examples of creative etymology as, indeed, is the final word on ‘loo’. To say ‘toodle-oo’ is to say goodbye, most usually to someone you know well and would be sure to meet again, so it is a brief separation. It has been suggested this was also used to signal a brief comfort break and ‘toodle-oo’ seen as a slurred pronunciation of ‘to-the-loo’.

Jakes – certainly in use by 1530 as Shakespeare writes in King Lear “I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the walls of the jakes with him.” Likely this dates from a time when the name Jack was a generic term for any person, irrespective of gender, and hence Jacks place became Jakes. Most often a North American term, ‘John’ would be same as ‘Jack’.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Staffordshire Privies

It is fifteen years, almost to the day, since I was asked to produce my first book away from my normal subject of toponymy or even etymology. When Countryside Books approached me with the idea of adding to their series on the subject of privies I was lost for words. However recently I was asked to speak on the subject and I was reminded of some of the oddities I uncovered during my research.

In the late twentieth century we take for granted the efficient disposal of sewage. The sole discomfort in the modern era is on cold winter’s days when greeted with the initial shock of a cold toilet seat in public conveniences. Yet it was as recently as the 1920s when the flush toilet became the norm in newly erected properties, although then the vast majority were outside (as I well recall).

Except for the limited influence on sanitary conditions during the Roman occupation, little change in waste disposal had taken place since man first walked these green and pleasant lands. Indeed, as the population of our islands increased and rural communities relocated to live in lines of tenement properties, the problem of sanitation grew proportionately. Buckets and pots were emptied straight from windows into the street below and if passers-by were unfortunate enough to be in the line of fire, so be it.

The Biblical reference to this basic requirement instructs us to go into the desert with a paddle (wooden spade) and make a hole in the sand, the paddle also being utilized to fill in the hole afterwards. No reference to toilet paper here, nor to any alternative. The Bible also relates ho Baal’s temple was destroyed by the forces of Jehu (Kings II, 10:27), henceforth the place used as a latrine. King Eglon’s murder is also covered (Judges, 3:24), occurring whilst the gentleman was relieving himself in the inner room of the house.

Even the most magnificent of castles of the Middle Ages had no conveniences to speak of. Most were limited to narrow passages situated within tower walls, with the excrement dropping down a shaft to form a pile at the base – or sometimes to fall straight into the surrounding moat. In some of the better planned keeps one may have been lucky enough to find such places located near chimneys, which did something to keep out the cold. However personal comfort was not at the forefront of the architect’s mind, rather that the natural updraught from the fires acted as a means to remove unwanted smells.

In 1367 the first Earl of Stafford began the building of Stafford Castle. A master mason, John of Bicester, was charged with: “Building a castle on the mound within the manor of Stafford, in length, breadth and height, with towers, rooms, bedchambers, chapel, privies, chimneys, loopholes, windows, doors and gates.” This is the earliest reference to a privy I could find within the county. It is interesting that this agreement lists privies before windows, doors and chimneys.

Monarchs both here and abroad were given little consideration when it came to a call of nature. They were more often than not under the very real threat from perfidious murderers and traitors, and in order to minimise the risk of assassination the reigning sovereign would be accompanied everywhere, even to the loo. The twelfth century German emperor found his way to one loo accompanied by so many the wooden floor gave way under the weight. Fortunately Barbarossa managed to save himself but several of his entourage failed to emerge alive from the pit below. The Saxon king Edmund Ironside was murdered in 1016. One chronicle records how he died when impaled on “a spear in the fundament (backside) while at the withdraught (toilet) to purge nature.” It was only in the seventeenth century that kings and queens started to receive special consideration of a sort, when commode-style contraptions were introduced into the richest homes in the land.

For the rest of the population the only conveniences were public ones. In villages this would often have been over a natural watercourse of some description, whilst townsfolk would have been treated to a communal cesspit. The rural version provided its own disposal system; the cesspit needed to be emptied. However owing to the appalling smell emanating from the places such a task would have been carried out only when the pit was overflowing. In Stafford town centre one cesspit from the seventeenth century was discovered during building work. It now forms part of the foundations of the Mark’s & Spencer store.

A map of Stafford dating from 1625 shows how the channel in the middle of the road, principally to allow surface water to drain away, ran towards the river Sowe through the town wall at Southgate opposite the bridge. Here it discharged into the river, taking with it all the rubbish collected on the way. This would certainly have included waste products – both animal and human. The run-off polluted the river to such a degree that the men of Stafford were obliged to cross the bridge to water their horses further upstream. This daily ritual is marked on the map.

To compound the problem still further, the town dung heap was located immediately downstream of this place, where the contents of the cesspits were deposited. The 1625 map identifies the dung heap and also tells us this was the ‘way to the Thieves Ditch’. As this is the only reference to such a name we do not know if this was a place where thieves would hide out, or if they were deposited there as a punishment. Either way it is enough to seriously consider going straight.

The cesspits were emptied by gongfermors. When the bucket privy arrived the same job was performed by those known as night-soil men, who clearly worked at night, fundamentally to reduce the smell nuisance and the vast number of flies. These outside privies did not have a toilet seat as we would know it today, although the hole cut in the board would be complete with a lid (until it was lost). To find the board across the pit with more than one hole was by no means unusual. Two-holers were common and even more. These would have holes of different sizes so that the kids would not be in danger of falling through the larger hole required by their parents. On my travels I heard of how the carpenter in the high street had a long board attached to the wall of his workshop. This was hinged and could be dropped down so that customers could take a seat and order a new board made to measure with holes in increasing sizes. It was said the board had no less than ten and possibly as many as fourteen holes!

Finally mention must be made of the automatic earth closet designed by John Parker, a cabinet-maker by trade, which improved on a manual lever-operated version invented by the Reverend Samuel Moule in 1860. In John Parker’s design a series of levers were connected from the seat to a hopper. As the user rose the system released an amount of soil (or ashes) from the hopper into a bucket. Of the 20,000 made two versions were produced, in pine for the poor and mahogany for the more affluent customer. The earth closet was soon to be pushed aside with the appearance of the flush toilet. Although in many aspects it was (and is) superior to the water variety.

Regrettably, from an ecological viewpoint, the water flush did not need to be emptied and therefore inevitably reigned supreme. Should the earth closet have taken up residence in all our homes instead, today there would be few worries regarding water shortages; sewage treatment plants would have far less volume to manage and would therefore be more efficient; with fewer pipes to lag burst pipes during the thaw would be less of a hazard; and lastly we could all be producing our own garden produce – organically grown of course.

My Staffordshire Privies also contains a long list of expressions referring to the privy and answering a call of nature. Next time I shall look at the origin of some of these but in the meantime I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Writing Memories on a Lichfield Walk

Soaring Heaven on Earth is a somewhat overly dramatic title for a walk on the northern edge of the city of Lichfield. This was not a walk I anticipated would bring any great satisfaction. I like a distant sound of traffic and little or no tarmac. However this proved a pleasant albeit brief distraction, particularly so when I found myself reunited with areas of my native county which I had visited previously when compiling four of my books: Staffordshire Place Names, Staffordshire Privies, South Staffordshire Street Names, and the forthcoming Paranormal Staffordshire.

I started the route at a different point on the walk, solely because parking was impossible on that day. Soon I was trying to recall the meaning of a number of street names as I started off at Cross Keys, itself taking the name of a former public house, itself named from the symbol representing St Peter. Passing through Lloyds Walk, named after the bank which owns the land, I turned into Dam Street, a reminder of where the water flow feeding the mill was controlled. Here is Dame Olivers, the school where Dr Samuel Johnson learned his first lessons.

Nether Pool is of lesser importance than Stowe Pool. Crossing Bird Street, known as Byrd Street in 1506 and named after a local family, we come to Beacon Park, a name transferred from Beacon Street which we shall encounter very soon.

Skirting the park we approached Townfields, the name explains itself. It was here that a former resident allowed me to photograph the building which had once served as the privy before modern plumbing was installed. The solid brick building certainly smelled better when I photographed it, for one wall and the roof were covered in honeysuckle and its heady sweet perfume.

Shaw Lane is an old name found in the landscape, one referring to 'the enclosure', leads to Beacon Street, which was known as Bacon Street until 1836 and tells us this was where meat was cured. Along here is Erasmus Darwin House where I heard of the unexplained events of cellar lights being turned on moments after being turned off for the night. Another man in period costume appeared to a member of staff and was thought to be playing a role for the museum until she realised he had vanished and that no costumed characters were on site that day.

A side road on the left is The Close, the road associated with the cathedral, and here another phenomenon seemed keen to allow aromas of cooking to permeate into the upstairs of one person's house when nobody was cooking. The buildings on either side seem to frame the magnificent Lichfield Cathedral with its three spires known as the Ladies of the Vale. Briefly touching Dam Street again we turn left along Reeve Lane, a reeve was a Saxon officer appointed by the lord of the manor to see to the running of the estate in his stead.

This path brings us to the single circuit of Stowe Pool, from stow which has several meanings and is best defined as simply 'place' as 'special place' makes it sound of greater significance than it actually was. The path leads off and up the ramp and back to my waiting car.

The walk brought back memories of facts and narratives I would never have remembered had I tried to recall them from a question or a reminder of a name.