Kulning is an ancient herding call that originated in Sweden and Norway. It is used most often to call livestock (cows, goats, sheep, etc) down from pastures where they’d been grazing. The calls are typically used by women, though there are records of it having been used by men.
In 18th-century England, it was fashionable for wealthy estate owners to hire people to dress as druids, never wash themselves, grow their hair and nails as long as possible, and live in their gardens as ‘ornamental hermits.’
Another off-the-beaten-path fact that caught my curiosity. Upon further research to verify if this was even true (who knows with ye olde internet), I found that the only person to have done any substantial research on this topic was Gordon Campbell, Professor of Renaissance Studies at the University of Leicester, and who published The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome .
True to the title, the first records of fashionable hermits living on nobles’ lands dates back to Roman emperor Hadrian, whose villa at Tivoli included a lake and house built for one. Pope Pius IV then built one for himself in the 16th century, prompting a decent amount of isolated one-man houses for the religious.
It wasn’t until the turn of the 18th century, however, that having a hermit live on your land became a real fashion statement. As Campbell states,
“Recruiting a hermit wasn’t always easy. Sometimes they were agricultural workers, and they were dressed in a costume, often in a druid’s costume. There was no agreement on how druids dressed, but in some cases they wore what we would call a dunce’s cap.”
Advertisements for willing candidates were made, with stipulations such that the hermit couldn’t leave the house, couldn’t talk to anyone for seven years, never wash, and let his hair and nails grow as long as possible.
As a 1784 guide for keeping a resident hermit states: “The hermit is generally in a sitting posture, with a table before him, on which is a skull, the emblem of mortality, an hour-glass, a book and a pair of spectacles.”
But why this macabre show? This representation of somberness and introspection perfectly captured the highly enviable spirit of melancholy that high Georgian society revolved around. It was so fashionable to embody this feeling that some estates took to duping their friends by putting a sad looking mannequin in a shack. It wasn’t until the end of the 18th century that this fashion petered out.
Mastiha is a natural product mysteriously found only on an eastern Mediterranean volcanic island of Chios 3000 years ago. Known since antiquity for its healing effects, Mastiha has been used as an excellent digestive & multifunctional medicament. Harvesting is a very delicate procedure undertaken by experienced workers carriers of a long tradition from father to son. The name of the resin, whence the name of the drink, is derived from the Greek “to chew, to gnash the teeth”.
This explanation was rather hazy in specificity, so I did a bit of research on my own. Mastiha (the h is pronounced as a k) is the resin of a specific kind of evergreen bush found only on one side of the island of Chios. In its powdered form, it is used as a light spice and flavoring in traditional desserts, and is also found in local toothpastes, soaps, liqueurs, cosmetics, and other various common commodities. When found in edibles, it is typically mixed with either salt or fine sugar to keep the sticky resin from reforming into clumps. As mentioned above, it also has been used as a medicine for quite a while, specifically for ulcers and upper intestinal issues. At one time, it was considered to be such a delicacy that the word “masticate,” to chew, is derived from the resin.
(picture and original explanation via)
A phenakistoscope from Paris, France, c. 1833. Alphonse Giroux et Cie.
This was the kind of tea that was thrown into the Boston Harbor during the Boston Tea Party of 1773, not loose tea as one might imagine. This plank of highly compressed tea leaves would last someone roughly one year, and was prepared by shaving bits into a kettle.
This really helps put into perspective just how much tea was lost when 342 crates were dumped into the harbor that night.
A classic German tongue-twister
When looking at ladies’ period clothing, you might have wondered how on earth they sat down with a wire or bone cage not only enveloping their body, but attached to their backside as well. Well, as demonstrated below using a lobster bustle (named because it resembles a lobster’s tail), it’s actually a lot easier than it might appear: