The more things change the more they remain the same. While this is a recreation of a dinner prepared in 1796, I vividly remember my mother and grandmother making a similar meal. A similar meal must have been prepared in the 1860's.
I took an open-hearth cooking class at Mystic Seaport in Connecticut, and I left with a greater appreciation for my modern kitchen. The women in the mid-1800's had their challenges with their fashion and life.
Greek philosopher Aristotle, born approximately in 384 B.C., believed in "4 classical elements that made up all matter; earth, air, fire, and water". Some two thousand years later his basic elements would meet something unique and interesting when ladies began wearing hoop skirts. A fashion...
civilwartalk.com
And in another reminder of the dangers to be found around the home as the wife of American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow discovered:
"The last and somewhat diminished stage of Longfellow's career began in 1861 with the tragic death of his wife Fanny. In an accident on July 9, 1861 at the Longfellow's Cambridge home, Fanny's gauzy clothing caught fire and she was enveloped in flames. She died the next day. Exactly how the accident occurred is unclear; Fanny may have inadvertently ignited her dress with a candle she was using to melt sealing wax, or she may have stepped on a self-lighting match."
I took an open-hearth cooking class at Mystic Seaport in Connecticut, and I left with a greater appreciation for my modern kitchen. The women in the mid-1800's had their challenges with their fashion and life.
Greek philosopher Aristotle, born approximately in 384 B.C., believed in "4 classical elements that made up all matter; earth, air, fire, and water". Some two thousand years later his basic elements would meet something unique and interesting when ladies began wearing hoop skirts. A fashion...
civilwartalk.com
And in another reminder of the dangers to be found around the home as the wife of American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow discovered:
"The last and somewhat diminished stage of Longfellow's career began in 1861 with the tragic death of his wife Fanny. In an accident on July 9, 1861 at the Longfellow's Cambridge home, Fanny's gauzy clothing caught fire and she was enveloped in flames. She died the next day. Exactly how the accident occurred is unclear; Fanny may have inadvertently ignited her dress with a candle she was using to melt sealing wax, or she may have stepped on a self-lighting match."
The first modern, self-igniting match was invented in 1805 by Jean Chancel, assistant to Professor Louis Jacques Thénard of Paris. The head of the match consisted of a mixture of potassium chlorate, sulfur, gum arabic and sugar.
This article gives a little insight into her painful death (without mentioning a self-igniting match).
"Nothing in their experience, however, could have prepared them for what transpired on July 9, 1861, a hot summer day when the family normally would have been enjoying the sea breezes at their summer retreat in Nahant, but were home so Fanny could be close to her dying father in Boston. After returning from a morning by Nathan Appleton's bedside, she decided to cut some locks of hair from her seven-year-old daughter, Edith. While sealing a snippet in an envelope with wax from a lighted candle, her hooped muslin dress caught fire, setting her ablaze in an instant. Trying desperately to snuff out the flames with a small rug, Henry suffered burns on his hands and face, leaving scars that he would hide in the years ahead with the long white beard that became so familiar to his millions of admirers. Fanny survived the night, her horrible pain at length lessened by the arrival of some ether, but the injuries were too severe, and nothing further could be done. Her demeanor in these final hours was described by those in attendance as "perfectly calm, patient and gentle, all the lovely sweetness and elevation of her character showing itself in her looks and words."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote this poem on the first anniversary of his wife's death.
"Cross of Snow"
"In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face–the face of one long dead–
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died; and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died."