Marvelous Changes Wrought in the Nineteenth Century by Kristin Holt

 

 

by Kristin Holt, USA Today Bestselling Author
of Sweet Romance set in the Victorian American West

 

The Good Old Days

 

Ah, the good old days! Before common items had even been imagined.

If you watch the news at the close of the year (or decade or century) you'll find reviews highlighting developments or significant events. I suppose its no surprise that folks have been looking back in like manner for ages!

In 1895, an unidentified author published a conversational list of advancements achieved over the past 100 years. The following is a careful transcription of a newspaper article highlighting marvelous changes wrought in the nineteenth century. Original source: Omaha Daily Bee of Omaha, Nebraska, dated July 14, 1895.

 

Nineteenth Century Advancements, Viewed from 1895

 

DAYS OF OUR GRANDFATHERS

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"Say Not that the Former Times Were Far Better Than These."

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HERE IS EVIDENCE TO THE CONTRARY

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How the Daddies Managed to Live Without the Conveniences of Our Day--The Marvelous Changes Wrought in a Single Century.

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It is common with some men, especially those advanced in life, to complain of the present and to contrast it with "the good old times," to the advantage of the latter. The habit of decrying the age in which we live is old; even in the days of Cicero there were croakers who lamented the departure of ancient times and customs, and it may be, so common is this habit to people advanced in years, that even Adam in his old age grumbled to Eve about how the times were changing, and that the world was different from what it was when he and the mother of mankind were young. But nothing is more certain than that the world is wiser, better, happier today than ever before. So rapid has been its progress in all directions that in comparison, the people of even a century ago were savages. It is difficult for us, says the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, accustomed as we are to the conveniences and comforts of modern life, to understand how our grandfathers could have lived without them. The world has moved so fast and gone so far that many things now deemed indispensable and within the means of the poorest, were then regarded as luxuries obtainable only the very wealthy; while by far the greater portion of appliances in everyday use were then absolutely unknown. Their day had not then come. A glance into any history of discoveries and inventions shows that the world has made more progress in the last 100 years than the preceding ten centuries. (emphasis added)

NO RAILROADS.

A hundred years ago there was not a mile of railroad track, not a locomotive, not a railroad car, not a railroad invention, not a telegraph line, not a phonograph, not a typewriter, not even an effective system of shorthand in the world. The steamboat was an experiment whose success was greatly doubted; steam engines were looked upon with grave suspicion. In England the common people regarded Watt as a necromancer; in America there were a few steam engines which had been brought from the old country, but not much was thought of their working power. A hundred years ago there was not an accordion nor an apple-parer in existence. Balloons were in their infancy, blast furnaces unknown. There was not a gas pipe, not a gas jet in the world, nor even an Argand lamp, and coal oil, procured in very small quantities, was sold in little vials as a specific for rheumatism. The poor used a "rush" light, made by dipping a dried rush into the most convenient sort of fat or grease; the middle classes used candles of tallow; the rich burned sperm or wax. Chinaware was not in common use; a few years before 1790 a factory was set up by Wedgewood, and was not at that time a success. The circular saw was in the hands of its inventor. The farmer shelled corn by hand and with the assistance of a cob. Whitney was busy with the idea of a cotton gin, which he was completing in 1793. The features of the people were preserved for future generations by means of oil paintings or crayon portraits, for daguerreotypes and photographs were unknown.

MINES AND LETTERS.

Mines were subject to constant danger from explosions, for there were no safety lamps. People left one page of letter paper blank, folded it over the rest, and sealed it with wax, for envelopes were not made. Letters were not stamped; postage was paid at the time; the letter paper was unruled [sic], for there were no ruling machines. No rubber bands were in existence to hold papers together, for India rubber had not yet been brought from the depths of the Brazilian forest; papers were sewed together in place of being fastened with convenient clamps, and were then tied with the traditional red tape. Handkerchiefs were known only to the wealthy, and seldom made use of by them, being first made popular by the Empress Josephine, who had bad teeth, and concealed the deformity by holding a handkerchief before her lips when she laughed. Linen collars and cuffs were unthought [sic] of, and starch was little used by either rich or poor. The farmers cut grain with a sickle, for the scythe and cradle had not been invented, while harvesters, reapers and mowers and twine-binders were undreamed of. There were no horse railroads in the streets, no stages save for long journeys, no ice machines, no ironclads, no rifled guns. The knitting was all done by hand, for stocking machines were not in existence, nor were lightning rods nor lifeboats. There were no road wagons; musical instruments were scarce and costly. There were a few clavichords and harpsichords, and although some of the greatest composers had finished their work, their compositions had not been heard on the instruments best adapted to them. Bach never heard his compositions played on a piano. Nails were made by hand. There was no straw paper; there were no paper bags, nor skates, nor steel pens. Coal tar was not in existence, so there were no aniline dyes nor flavoring extracts. The power press had not come into being; printing was done by hand; nor was there any stereotyping.

NO REVOLVERS OR BANKS.

There were no revolvers for the use of the criminal classes; highwaymen armed themselves with horse pistols a foot long, giving a report like a young cannon. There were no savings banks, no seed drills, no sewing machines, no machines for making shoes, no steam fire engines, no stem-winding watches, no street sweepers, for sweeping was never done save at crossings. The streets were unpaved; at the corners and on both sides of the way, stepping stones were placed about a foot apart that pedestrians might be kept out of the mire, and these steps, on a rainy day, caused frequent conflicts between citizens anxious to keep their feet out of the mud. There were no tacks, and consequently no jokes about stepping on these instruments of torture. There was no machine-made thread. Vaccination had been in use about ten years, but had not come to America, and in England Jenner sometimes found it necessary to have himself attended by a guard to prevent violence from the common people. There was no wooden pavement, no wood paper; very few rooms in America had carpets on the floors, sand being used instead. There were no factory-made chairs, no water pipes in the streets; there was no water in the houses save what was carried in by hand; nor were there any house furnaces. Cooking in winter was done in iron pots before a mighty hearth, and in the outhouses in summer. The windows would not lift, for window weights had not been invented. The sash sometimes opened outwardly like our shutters, but were not often used in this way, for the importance of ventilation was not understood.

MEDICAL COLLEGES.

A hundred years ago there were no medical colleges worthy of the name in America; a young doctor learned his trade from an old doctor, and in the course of six months' study acquired the art of mixing the big doses which were then in common use. There were no drug stores, with their long array of bottles labeled with unpronounceable names. Most of the chemicals now in use are of the present century. No patent medicines were employed. In the spring of the year people drugged themselves with huge doses of senna and manna, as well as of rhubarb, of brimstone and treacle. Ague fits were common, but there was no quinine for their alleviation; pounded Peruvian bark, at an enormous price, answered the purpose. There was no morphine, no bromide of any kind, no chloral. There was no mercy for the sick man. "Bleed him till he faints," was the favorite precept of more than one physician. In New England, at least, there was no chance to escape the church service. The preacher often preached for four hours at a time, noted his audience very carefully, and any member of the flock absent without sufficient excuse was waited upon the next day by the constable, hauled before the magistrate, admonished, and upon a second offense, was fined and put in the stocks. A wealthy clergyman was unknown; the preacher was paid in kind, and received during the  year a little of everything that his flock ate and wore. Each parishioner deposited at the door of his spiritual adviser a little corn, a few potatoes, a little wood, a little salt pork, a little hominy, some oats, a fowl or two, some fish, a piece or two of corn beef. Rich editors were as scarce as wealthy preachers; their subscribers paid their dues in wood, corn and wheat; the editors were apparently always asking for money and never getting it.

CARRYING THE MAILS.

There were no regular mails, for the mail carrier was never sent out until he had enough matter to pay the expenses of the trip. The mail between New York and Boston, in 1794, was carried in a single pair of saddle-bags, and when its quantity had increased so that two pair were necessary, the carrier rebelled and struck for higher wages. No facilities for traveling existed. A man starting from Massachusetts to Virginia made his will and bade his friends farewell, as though he never was to see them again. Two stage coaches plied between New York and Boston, were from six to nine days on the road, and passed each other on the way. In the cities of 100 years ago there were a few street lamps fed by whale or train oil, but they were seldom lighted, except on gala occasions, for everybody was in bed shortly after dark. A century ago there was no sleep for the boys in the churches of New York or Boston, for a man with a pole stood ready to prod the sleepy youth and thus keep him alive to a sense of the spiritual condition. Nor was there any escape from the collection, for a deacon passed round with a bag at the end of a pole, to which a little bell was attached to call the attention of the drowsy contributors. No organs were used in the churches, and the singing was so slow that one preacher testifies he had time to take a breath twice on one note. Our great-grandfathers had no coal, nor were they fortunate enough to possess matches. When the fire accidentally went out during a long winter's night a boy was dispatched in the morning with a shovel to the nearest neighbors to bring fire. If there were no neighbors an effort was made to kindle a blaze by a handful of whittled shavings, ignited by powder touched off with flint and steel. Stone houses were few, those of brick still fewer. In the country log houses were fashionable, and in cities most of the houses were of frame work. There was not a chromo in America, nor were there any statues; marble cutting was unknown. There were no visiting cards, no engraved invitations, no paper boxes.

THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR.

Our great-grandfathers had no mercy on prisoners. In Newgate, Conn., an old mine served as a prison. Descent was effected to it by means of a ladder, and, for further security, the prisoner was fastened to the floor by one foot, and to the ceiling by means of a chain passed round his neck. The treadmill, stocks and pillory were in every parish, and hangmen kept knives for cutting off the ears, slitting the lips and trimming the noses of offenders, and also manipulated the branding irons. Counterfeiters were marked with a "C" on the forehead; thieves were marked with "F" for the Latin "fur," or "T" for the English "thief." Swearing in public was not allowed; the oath 'by God,' used in Massachusetts, was punishable by the stocks, ten lashes and a lecture from the preacher. Gradations in profanity were made. "By Christ" was punishable by the stocks and fine, without the lashes; "G-d d--n" by a fine of 10 shillings, and plain, simple "damn" was worth 5 shillings. There was no surgery. The hod carrier today, who falls off a ladder and is carried to a charity hospital, receives better medical and surgical attention than all the money of George III could have purchased, or than all the wheat raised on George Washington's farm could have secured. There were no amusements; the most worldly-minded sinners indulged only in dancing and cards. There were no theaters save in two or three cities, where the play began at 6 o'clock, and the managers stated that they would be obliged for any old plays their patrons did not care to use. In New England, 100 years ago, a bitter controversy was going on as to whether "theater going" should be allowed. Somebody hired a barn in Boston, put up a sing, "Exhibition Room," over the door and sent a bell man up and down the streets to announce that "moral lectures would be given by several performers at one time," but while the "School for Scandal," a moral lecture in several fittes [sic]," was being delivered by a company of lecturers, the players were arrested and the play stopped.

MANUFACTURERS.

There were no manufactures in New England, and New York was of no importance as a port of entry. All the rice, pitch, tar, wheat and corn exported were sent out from southern ports and the New England states were regarded as too poor to feed their own people. There was not a cotton factory in the world, for the fiber could not be separated from the seed save by hand. Linen factories had not yet come into existence; every housewife raised her own flax and made her own linen. Ready-made clothing stores were unknown; every housekeeper made all the clothing used by her entire family, herself spun the thread, wove the linsey woolsey cloth, borrowed a pattern, adjusted it to her own notions and made every article of clothing worn by herself, husband, sons and daughters. There was no unity of language in this country. Dutch was spoken in New York as much as English; German might be heard in many of the Pennsylvania settlements and Scandinavian was common along the Delaware. Gaelic was spoken along the North Carolina mountains, French in South Carolina, Spanish in Florida and English in Georgia, the Central and New England states. No macadamized roads connected the colonies and no galloping horses were allowed in the city streets under penalty of a fine of 3 shillings and 6 pence. The women did no shopping and the the store keeper sent out no flaming advertisements. Normal schools were yet in the future; Sunday schools with their millions of scholars were unknown. The teacher of the district school boarded around among his neighbors and patrons and impressed ideas on the youthful minds by means of a stick. Educational appliances were of the simplest possible description, consisting of a spelling book and a manuscript arithmetic owned by the teacher. There were no slates, no paper pads, no lead pencils; a copy book was made from half a quire of paper. The copy was sent by the preceptor and the writing done with the pupil's own pen manufactured from the quill of a home-grown goose. There were no base ball games and no boating. Gymnasiums were unknown  and sawing wood was considered appropriate exercise for young men. There were no dude college graduates; the Yale student had no privileges and no dainty dishes were set on his table. In the college boarding house his rations consisted, for breakfast of a pint of coffee, a biscuit and some butter. Mondays and Thursdays were "boiling days," the others were "roasting days." On "roasting days" he had for dinner two potatoes and bread in addition to his roast. On "boiling days" there was cabbage, potatoes and pudding, usually plum duff, boiled dough with a few raisins scattered through it. For supper he had a slice of bread and a bowl of milk. If he wanted more he had to buy it for himself.

FLOWERS AND VEGETABLES.

Our great grandmothers had few flowers, save such as grew wild. They knew nothing of the hydrangea, which did not come from China until 1840; nor were they familiar with the maurandia vine, the salvia or the tiger flower, which came together from Mexico about 1822. They did not have the thumbergia, which was not brought from the East Indies until 1823; nor the "Wandering Jew," which reached North America from South America at the same date; nor the bleeding heart, which came from Siberia in 1810; nor the coleus, which emigrated from Java in 1861; nor the lemon verbena, which came from Chili [sic] in 1794. The calla lily was not known in America, and was rare in England, though it had come from the Cape of Good Hope in 1731; thes [sic] milax [sic] [Smilax?] was scarcely more familiar, though it had come from the same party of Africa in 1732, and the heliotrope, little better known, though it emigrated in 1757 from Peru. The strawberry geranium was just beginning to attract attention, having come from China in 1771, and the mignonette was unfamiliar though brought from Italy in 1752. The cyclamen had come from Cyprus in 1731, but was not widely diffused, while the dew plant had not yet come from the Cape of Good Hope, nor the dahlia from Mexico, and the petunia had just arrived from South America. The vegetable gardens were hardly better cared from than the flower plats. The tables of our great-grandfathers of 1794 were well supplied with fresh food and groaned under the weight of salt pork, salt beef, dried or jerked beef and venison, bear meat, buffalo, moose and elk beef and salt fish. Their meats  were mostly salt or dried, for no ice was put up and there were no butcher shops. "Killing a beef" was an event; all the neighborhood was invited; each family took a part. For vegetables they had cabbages, onions, leeks, potatoes, dried beans and a few peas. Indian corn was plentiful, but turnips were scarce and little eaten, for they were thought to be bad for the eyes. The egg plant and cauliflower were unknown, although the latter had come to England from Cyprus in 1603, but they had not yet reached America. Tomatoes were grown among the flowers, called "love apples," and thought to be poisonous. Radishes were known, but little used. Lettuce and cucumbers were used in England, but not in America. There was no sweet corn; the succulent snapbean was not yet developed, and asparagus was not in favor. Parsnips were occasionally grown, but not liked.

FRUITS.

For fruits they had apples dried for winter use, pears used fresh, and a few trees of peaches. The grape, the strawberry, the raspberry, the dewberry and blackberry grew wild, and were sometimes picked for use, but the fruit was small, sour and inferior, and there was no thought of cultivating these plants. The watermelon, cantaloupe and muskmelon were unknown, while oranges, bananas, pineapples and other tropical fruits would not bear the long ocean voyage, and consequently were not seen once in a decade. A hundred years ago there was not talk about political parties, for, aside from Whig, understood to mean a man in favor of American independence, and Tory, a man in favor of the continuance of British rule, political parties had no existence. Slaves were held in all the states and slave trading was considered a legitimate form of business enterprise in which the pious New Englanders engaged as earnestly and zealously as did the natives of the south. Human beings were openly bought and sold, and kidnaping [sic] Indian children for slaves was a lucrative business. The multiplicity of religious denominations was yet a thing of the future. The faiths of the colonists were few and simple. The New Englanders were Congregationalists, the Virginians were Church of England members, the Catholics were most numerous in the Carolinas and the Methodists were just making a start. The morning papers were yet in the future. Boston had the News-Letter, founded in 1704; the Boston Gazette, established in 1719; the New England Courant, 1721, and the Columbian Sentinal, 1775. Philadelphia had the American Weekly Mercurie, 1719. New York had the Gazette, 1773, and the Royal Gazette, founded in the same year, and Worcester, Mass., had The Spy, established in 1775. All were weekly, had consisted of shipping news, local matters and an occasional very cautious expression of opinion on matters of public interest. There were no telegrams, of course, and the news letters, when dealing with political matters, rarely ventured on publishing names, but darkly hinted at the persons alluded to. The advertisements consisted mostly of legal notices and rewards offered for lost animals and runaway slaves. The printing press was manipulated by hand, for steam was not applied to printing until 1814. The editor was called the printer and was liable, civilly and criminally, for everything that appeared in his paper, and was held to an accountability so strict that a few years of the business generally made him anxious to find another job. Such were the good old days--days when every man raised his own tobacco in his front  yard and smoked it in a pipe, the cob of which grew in his own field; when every woman made her own soap with lye from the ash hopper, mixed with vile smelling grease saved for a year in her "fat barrel;" kept her butter in a bucket hung in the well and her milk in the spring house; days when the young gentlemen had neither cigarettes nor canes, and the young lady neither her candy nor chewing gum, and the small boy could not make the immortal Fourth hideous with firecrackers, because he had none. Men may praise the good old times for their simplicity, but not even the veriest croaker would be willing to see them return.

 

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Copyright Ⓒ 2021 Kristin Holt LC

Victorian Witches by Kristin Holt

by Kristin Holt, USA Today Bestselling Author

of American Historical Romance 

Halloween may have passed, but America's fascination with witches has not. Nor has our delight with "Fright." How many witches came to your door last night, trick-or-treating? A few, I hope, that were not also zombies. You know: zombie witches, zombie brides, zombie doctors...

My grander reason for sharing a few tidbits about witches in American history is that we hear far more about the Salem Witch Trials than we hear about witch trouble in the Old West. Wow! Before finding these gems midst bazillion pages of newspaper archives, I'd gathered much about Halloween in the nineteenth century United States. Fascinating! That enjoyment of holiday parties, Halloween, and the late 1800s became The Witching Eve, a short story. (Just 99-cents. Better yet, it's included with your Kindle Unlimited subscription.)

 

Victorian Witches

Yes, Victorian America, melting-pot that it was, did indeed believe in witches. True, not many were caught up in the fervor surrounding earlier decades and centuries, but some did bring their superstitions from homelands.

 

Witchcraft: Irish Carpenter's Peculiar Affliction (1881)

 

Lancaster Intelligencer of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Saturday, Jan. 15, 1881. "Witchcraft!"

This delightful vintage newspaper article was published in Lancaster Intelligencer on Saturday Evening, January 15, 1881. As to not miss a single element of historical value, I've elected to transcribe the article word for word, with precise spelling (even when it's an error) and punctuation. Enjoy!

A Carpenter Bewitched.

New York Times.

The witches may or may not have all been burned in New England a century or two ago, but there are persons on Staten Island who are positive that one witch is still alive and that she has made them the victims of her dark powers. However this may be,  the idea of advertising in a New York daily newspaper for a person who can cure witchcraft is certainly a unique one ; and when the following advertisement appeared in a morning newspaper yesterday a reporter was immediately dispatched to Staten Island to learn something about the witch :

PORT RICHMOND. S. I.--IF THERE IS ANY person in New York that can cure witchcraft, man or woman, black or white, let them come and cure if they can, and no cure no pay. RICHARD MAY, Port Richmond, S.I.

It was hard work to find Mr. May in Port Richmond, but at length it was learned that he lived in one of the side streets (the Port Richmond streets are nearly all side streets), that he was an old man, that he had been a carpenter, and that he and his wive lived alone together. The house pointed out was a neat little story-and-a-half cottage, painted white, with an old fashioned well-curb in the front yard and a piazza across the front. A brisk knock at the door brought out a little old woman, wrinkled and gray, but withal plump, and bearing on her face the kindly look of a rural Irish woman. She wore the same cloth hood, in the shape of a sun-bonnet, and the same short skirts that such women always wear. She said that Mr. May lived there, that he was at home, and that he could be seen. And so saying she ushered her visitor into a room opening off the little hall, evidently the living room of the family. It was a very small room, but large enough for so small a family. Its furniture, though scant, was comfortable, and there was the air of comfort about the place that is always to be found in the home of an old Irish family. There was a table between the two windows, and a rocking chair, and a small stool, and a little cooking stove with red-hot lids and a tea kettle on it humming the same old tune that tea kettles hum to bairns and grannies year in and year out and never grow tired. An old-fashioned tin candlestick on the table held an inch or two of tallow candle, and two thick green paper shades shut out the world. In an arm chair by the stove, so close to the fire that it was a miracle he did not scorch, sat a broken old man, learning far over the stove, rubbing his hands together as if they were cold. This was Mr. Richard May, the advertiser, who was in search of some one to cure him of witchcraft.

"Yes," said he, in answer to the question. "I had the advertisement put in ; at least my wife did. She has to attend to everything, now. Can you drive out witches?"

The reporter was inclined to think that he might drive on out, if it was a small witch and he had a big club ; but he replied, with some caution, that he proposed to publish an account of this witchcraft in the Times, and that such publicity would certainly have a good effect upon the witch, and perhaps drive it out altogether.

"Yes," said the old man, "yes. I don't know but it might. I'm sure I wish it would. It's very hard to be bewitched this way, and kept away from work and left to starve. But I can't talk much--the witch won't let me talk much. My wife can talk."

On the subject of his wife's ability to talk, the old man's intellect was still sound. She straightened up some little things about the room, and went into an adjoining closet and brought out a fresh candle, drew a small and low four legged stool of home manufacture up by the side of the stove and sat down. It would have been evident to the least experienced observer that she had a story to tell, and that she was about to tell it.

"He hasn't done a stroke of work," said she, "for four years. There he sits all day, just as you see him now. And me, too.. I'm all wrong. I am bewitched, too, but not as bad as him. I'll tell you all about it, and you can write it down so as not to forget it. Think you can remember it? Well, some people have great heads. If we were only wise enough we could get over this, and there are plenty of people could cure us--people with great learning--if we could only find them. It was all along of that woman. She did it all."

"What woman?"

"The woman that lived in this house with us. There was only us two, and there are nine rooms in the house, so we had plenty room and to spare, and we rented her two rooms. That was eight years ago. She had a big room up stairs, and a little room for a kitchen, and then she had the back cellar, for we didn't use it, and nobody else went into it. She had a husband then, and he made plenty of money. He was a wheelwright and got $3 a day. She was all right then, and just like any other woman. But by and by her husband got took just like my old man was. She bewitched him. They were Scotch folks, and she sent him back to England and got rid of him. Then she began. The first I noticed wrong about her she began to have the black eye. Did you ever see a witch?"

The reporter's experience had been confined principally to witches of the ham sand kind, but he replied that he had frequently seen persons who looked as if they might be possessed, and this was strictly true.

"Well," the old woman continued, "you know they always have a black eye. No matter what color their eye is before, when they get to be witches one eye gets black. Well, my old man's began to turn black--the same eye. Then his hands began to draw up, and he couldn't do any work. I knew it in a minute what was the matter with him, so I began to watch this woman. Her room was right over ours, and we hard great rackets up there every night as if somebody was chasing her about the room. So one morning early I went up there and looked through a hole in the door. We never could get into her room, for she kept the door locked. What did I see? There was a great big white towel stretched over the rocking chair ; you'd thought there was a corpse there. And on the towel was laid an oval bit of wood. That was her circle ; witches always work with circles, you know. And by the side of that was a long slim stick of wood. That was too much for me. I always knew there was witches, but I never thought one of them would live in my house. So I went to her and told her what she done to my husband, and told her she must leave. She said to me, says she, 'Mrs. May," says she, 'I didn't do it. Get a Bible and I'll swear to it.' Then I says to her, says I. 'If you swore to it on a thousand Bibles I wouldn't believe you ;' for you know witches' oaths ain't of any account ; they'll swear to anything. She wouldn't go, so I went to a justice and had her put out."

"And where is she now?"

"She is still here in Port Richmond, and she's still got my husband bewitched. When she was gone one of the neighbors come to me and says : "Don't you go into that cellar, Mrs. May. That's where witches live, in cellars, and maybe she's put something on the floor to make you lame." I know witches can do that, but I thought maybe I might find something in the cellar that would bring my old man out all right. So I went in very careful. I walked around on tiptoe, and went clear to the bank of the cellar before I found anything. Then I leaned over and looked back of the chimney, and there it was--a bundle of black rags, done up in a--in a--a bunch like, so you might have thought it was a black cat a layin' there dead. And there was a big bundle, too ; and I opened that, and it was a pair of men's pantaloons, with buttons on. And they were all covered with a little fine white powder, like flour ; just like there is on the skin of a person that's bewitched. I've got it on me, and it makes spots like pin-heads on the skin, with little circles round them. And my old man's got them on him. But that ain't the only thing. He's got hair on his back, and that's a sure sign. Whenever you see a person with hair on their back you may know they're bewitched. You know that, don't you?

"It's a sure sign, and my old man's got it. See how he sits there and mopes. But that wasn't all I found. I looked very careful on the floor of the cellar, and I found a little bunch of black hair all wadded up and half buried. That was a good thing when I found that, for it saved my old man's life. It looked just like as if it was a piece cut off of a little girl's plait--you know how they plait little girls' hair. Well, I brought it up and laid it on the table, and it began to move around. It rose up, and that frightened me, and I threw it in the fire and burned it up. If it hadn't been for that my old man wouldn't be alive now. I've heard say that's the way witches work, with hair. When they bewitch a person they take a bunch of hair and bury it, and as soon as the hair rots the person dies. But I burned that hair, and it didn't rot, so the old man didn't die. But there he is ; just look at him. I think a witch is worse than a murderer ; don't you ? For a murderer only just kills you once, and it's over, but a witch kills you by inches. I think witches out to be killed. They used to kill them in this country, and they kill them now in Scotland. This woman is a Scotch woman, and I think she ought to be put out of the way, and not let to go about bewitching folks. There is wise men can cure bewitched people, and I only wish we could find one."

"Has anyone come yet in answer to the advertisement?"

"No, not yet ; but i hope they will. They could get plenty money, for witches always have more money than they know what to do with, and they ought to get the money from her ; she is the cause of all our trouble. Don't you know somebody in York that can drive out witches?"

The reporter was not acquainted with anybody who made that branch of science a specialty.

"Just look what she's done for us." the old woman went on. "Here's this house, with nine rooms in it ; we had it all clear, but my husband hasn't done a day's work for over four years, and we had to have some money ; so I went to work and I put a mortgage of $600 on it, and that's what we live on. It's all of the witch, and she ought to be made to pay for it."

"Have you anything to try and cure the old man?"

"Yes, we've done everything," she replied, "but it ain't any use. He's bewitched, and we've got to have some wise man that knows how to drive out witches. That's why I put the notice in the paper to try and find one."

The old man is apparently well on toward 70. His back is bent, his hands are drawn up, and his voice is feeble. It is more than probable that a wiser man even than he who would drive out witches can do nothing for him, and that his crooked body will be straightened no more this side of a grave.

Thoughts

Wow.

Shocking, isn't it?

From where I sit, in late 2019, the thought of such things as planting hair to kill someone (once that planting rots) or the supposition that "a witch" cannot tell the truth, even under oath. Imagine the woman who'd been evicted from the May residence under pall of witchcraft. With many townsfolk superstitious enough (or Irish enough, or Scottish enough) to believe the accusation.

Talk about #19thCenturyProblems

Modern Witchcraft: Witches in New Mexico (1888)

The Wichita Daily Eagle of Wichita, Kansas on June 7, 1888, "Modern Witchcraft: Marvelous Powers Attributed to Witches in New Mexico."

Allow me to share one more vintage newspaper article about witches in the late nineteenth century--this one squarely in the American Old West. From The Wichita Eagle of Wichita, Kansas on June 7, 1888, "marvelous powers (are) attributed to witches in New Mexico." This article was apparently of such interest at the time of publication that it was included in The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 1.

Once more, to provide the best view of vintage newspapers, with the greatest ease in reading (and online searching), I've transcribed with care to retain original spelling, typesetting, and punctuation. (Be prepared for typesetting errors a full 131 years old.)

New Mexico, acquired by the United States in 1848, under the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, has a present population of about 175,000, including about 30,000 Indians and 25,000 Americans (as we use the term in the east). The rest are Mexicans, with a few fine old Spanish families scattered here and there. Among the native population superstition is practically universal and has many strange manifestations  Despite the laudable efforts of our Pilgrim forefathers to exterminate the pestilent breed of witches, there are still witches and to spare in New Mexico, and the natives, almost to a man, believe in and fear them. [emphasis added] They are generally women, but sometimes men; usually of middle age, but occasionally very old, and rarely very young. It was my privilege the other day to photograph three live witches--the first, I venture to say, that ever faced a camera. They live in San Rafael.

Our witchology is full, detailed and graphic. Every paisano in New Mexico can tell you their strange habits, their marvelous powers and their baleful deeds. They never injure the dumb animals, but woe to the human being who incurs their displeasure! Few indeed are bold enough to brave their wrath. If a witch ask for food, wood, clothing or anything else, none dare say her nay   Nor dare any one eat what a witch proffers for if he do, some animal, alive and gnawing will form in his stomach. By day the witches wear their familiar human form, but at night, dressed in strange animal shapes they fly abroad to hold witch meetings in the mountains or to wreak their evil wills. In a dark night you may see them flying through the sky like so many balls of fire, and there are comparatively few Mexicans in the territory who have not seen this weird sight! For these nocturnal sallies the witches wear their own bodies, but take the legs and eyes of a coyote or other animal, leaving their own at home. Juan Perea, a male witch, who died here in San Mateo some months ago, met with a strange misfortune in this wise   He had gone of with the eyes of a cat, and during his absence a dog knocked over the table and ate up Juan's own eyes, so the unfortunate witch had to wear cat's eyes all the rest of his life.

RIDING WITH THE WITCHES. 

Before they can fly, witches are obliged to cry out "Sin Dios, sin Santa Maria!" (without God and without the Holy Virgin). Whereupon they mount up into the air without difficulty   If you are on good terms with a witch you may persuade her to carry you on her back from here to New York in a second   She blindfolds you and enjoins strict silence   If you utter a word you find yourself alone in some vast wilderness, and if you cry "God save me!" you fall from a fearful height to the ground--but are luckily never killed by the fall. There are several courageous people in the territory who have made journeys thus upon the backs of witches. At least they are ready to swear so and they find 10,000 believers to one skeptic. One striking peculiarity about new Mexico witches in that any one named Juan or Juana (John or Jane) can catch them, and that no one else can except a priest with holy water   To catch a witch, Juan draws a nine foot circle on the ground, turns his shirt inside out and cries "Veuga, bruja!" (come, witch), whereupon the witch has to fall inside the circle and Juan has her completely in his power   This ability to catch witches, however, is seldom exercised, for let Juan once catch a witch and all the other witches in the country join hands and whip him to death.

And now, having briefly outlined the nature of witches here, let me give you some veracious anecdotes of their exploits--religiously believed throughout this section. Lorenza Labadie, a man of prominence in New Mexico, once unknowingly hired a witch as a nurse for his baby   He lived in Las Vegas   Some months afterward there was a ball at Peurta de Luna, a couple of hundred miles south, and friends of the family were astonished to see the nurse and baby there.  "Where is Senor Labadie and his family?" they asked. The nurse replied that they were at a house a  few miles distant, but too tired to come to the ball. The friends went there next day and found the Labadies had not been there. Suspecting the nurse to be a witch, they wrote to Don Lorenzo, who only knew that the nurse and baby were in his house when he went to bed, and there also when he woke up. It being plain, therefore, to the most casual observer that the woman was a witch, he promptly discharged her.

 PECULIAR EXPERIENCES.

 A pretty girl at San Rafael, just married, had a quarrel with one of the witches there. That night a strange cat came into the room. Feeling sure it was a witch, she locked the door and window, and her husband came in with his six shooter, but the cat melted into thin air before he could shoot. A little later an owl suddenly appeared, flew against Margarita's cheek and cut it, and then disappeared as mysteriously as the cat had done. A horrible sore formed on the cheek, and could not be cured till Margarita appeased the witch with presents.

Jose Patricio Marino, one of the most respected men in San Mateo, had a most unfortunate experience not long ago. There was then in town a witch named Marcellina, a thin, withered old man of perhaps 50 years. Marino had the bad luck to offend her, and she retaliated by turning him into a woman! He was in this predicament for several months, as he is keen to swear, and recovered only by bribing the witch to restore him to masculinity  Marcellina found witchcraft an unhealthy profession, for last year two men whom she had bewitched caught her and beat her to death with clubs, right here in this pretty little village of San Mateo! Anything done to them? Well, hardly!--San Mateo (N.M.) Cor. Globe--

Invitation

I've heard of Skinwalkers (witches) in Navajo legend. Glimpsing the inherent argument between Californios' Catholic faith and folklore of Native Americans, Spaniards, and mestizos, I can better understand.

To me, it seems their ongoing stories of Good v. Evil, Right v. Wrong, With God v Without God (and the Holy Virgin) are a way of explaining day to day events. Spoiled milk. An illness or untimely death. Failed crops. Things that go bump in the night.

Hmmm.... What do you think? Please scroll down and comment. "Conversation" is the best part!

By Kristin Holt 

 

 

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Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Kristin Holt LC

Victorian Rice Pudding Recipes

by Kristin Holt

USA Today Bestselling Author

I’m having a bit too much fun writing a New England debutante with adequate skills in the kitchen, now on her own as a newlywed bride in Prosperity, Colorado. Not only is her groom slipping through her fingers, but her every attempt to hold his attention runs amok. Including her desire to please him with her cooking. BTW, that current WIP (work in progress) is The Silver-Strike Bride, book 2 in Prosperity’s Mail-Order Brides.

My personal preference is historical accuracy, especially when the information is easily come by. Today I suggested to my heroine Caroline that she please her husband’s sweet-tooth with a rice pudding.

Why? Because she’d likely have the ingredients on hand, even that short distance from the busy mining city of Leadville. Vintage cookbooks and historical newspapers illustrate that cooks made rice pudding throughout the nineteenth century.

The following recipes are listed in order by date, beginning with 1828, and concluding with 1887 (though the inclusion of this longtime favorite continued indefinitely). Note the Victorian kitchen measurements (like wine glass and gill).

Rice Pudding, Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats, published 1828.

Rice Custards.

Sweeten a pint of milk with loaf sugar, boil it with a stick of cinnamon, stir in sifted ground rice till quite thick. Take it off the fire; add the whites of 3 eggs well beaten; stir it again over the fire for two or three minutes, then put it into cups that have lain in cold water; do not wipe them. When cold, turn them out, and put them into the dish in which they are to be served; pour round them a custard made of the yolks of the eggs and little more than half a pint of milk. Put on the top a little red currant jelly, or raspberry jam. A pretty supper dish.

~ Rice Custards, The Summit County Beacon of Akron, Ohio on June 1, 1859.

Rice Custards recipe--a bit hard to read. See transcription.

 

Plain Rice Pudding, The Indiana Herald of Huntington, Indiana on August 11, 1880.

Rice Pudding with Eggs, Common Sense in the Household, published 1884.

Rice Pudding, The Homemade Cook Book, published 1885.

Rice Pudding au Caramel, The Boston Globe, December 31, 1885.

Rice Pudding Without Eggs, Alabama Beacon of Greensboro, Alabama on June 21, 1887.

Are you surprised to see that homemade pudding, made with milk and sugar and rice, could be made to thicken without eggs? I am.

Don’t these historical recipes make your mouth water? (I suppose you’d need to be a fan of vanilla and creamy puddings like I am.)

Do these recipes seem manageable over a wood- or coal-fired stove? Please scroll down and share your thoughts about these recipes and frontier homemakers making and serving rice pudding.

Here are a few related blog articles you might find interesting (click on the image(s)).

Might you be interested in other articles I've written for Sweet Americana Sweethearts? See my page!

Copyright © 2019 Kristin Holt LC