Wigs, patches and gin
Lucy Moore
DR JOHNSON'S LONDON by Liza Picard Weidenfeld, £20, pp. 362 In the preface to Dr Johnson's London, Liza Picard describes herself as 'an inquisi- tive, practical woman' with an interest in the day-to-day lives of people in the 18th century. She found books of social history dull, and decided to write her own: Restora- tion London was her first book; Dr John- son's London is her second. It is in many ways a delight, wide-ranging and informa- tive, with fascinating illustrations, including an advertisement from a night-soil man, who was paid to remove rubbish and waste from houses at night, an annual summary of the city's Bills of Mortality, and a photo- graph of a pair of peach silk shoes, heavy with gold embroidery.
Picard's style is modern, chatty and idiosyncratic, littered throughout with asides. Her research was extensive and original. She describes how she got in touch with shopkeepers from the period, like Berry Brothers and Twinings, who still trade today; she visited a stay-maker in Great Yarmouth; and she discussed the problems of climbing boys with a modern chimney sweep using traditional methods. Here, too, are the words of Casanova, Francis Place, James Boswell and, of course, the inimitable Dr Johnson, although he features slightly less than one might expect from a book with his name in the title.
The structure of Dr Johnson's London is an extended list, on topics that range from 'Paving and Lighting' to 'Hospital Adminis- tration' to 'Private Carriages' to 'Spoken English', almost all of which could merit a book in their own right. This preference for breadth over depth can shortchange the reader. In the section 'Cosmetics', when Picard talks about how patches were still in fashion at this time, she describes the old procuress in scene one of Hogarth's 'Har- lot's Progress', whose face is covered with patches. This abundance, comments Picard, is an example of how not to wear them. In fact, when patches were worn as profusely as they are in this engraving, gen- erally it was to cover up pockmarks. As well as being a mere statement of style, in this context patches also illustrate the prevalence of smallpox and (for Hogarth's bawd) venereal disease.
Picard devotes a chapter to servants, a social group often ignored by historians. Footmen might be paid eight pounds a year, although their duties were light. 'Their very uselessness made clear to the world that expense was no object to their employer.' Bedecked in braided liveries, they attended members of the family out shopping or to the theatre, walking ahead of their sedan chairs, or standing perhaps four deep on the back of a carriage; they delivered messages; they waited (expecting huge tips) at table. In popular slang, so Picard writes, they were known as 'fart- catchers', because their main function was to walk behind their master or mistress. What Picard does not mention is that in this dangerous age, when footpads roamed London's streets and highwaymen infested the country's main roads, a footman's most important role was that of a bodyguard.
There is much fascinating trivia. In 'The Language of Fans' we learn that touching a closed fan to the forehead meant, 'You're out of your mind'; resting the chin on a closed fan meant, 'Your flattery annoys me'; and making a brushing-away move- ment with an open fan meant, 'I do not love you'. Picard observes that almost the only thing not covered by this esoteric code was, 'When will you send the carriage for Gretna Green?'
On these levels, Picard is lighthearted, observant and readable. Because some- thing like the language of fans requires very little in the way of discussion or analy- sis, superficiality suffices. But on more seri- ous topics, for example the grinding poverty of the majority of London's popu- lation, Picard's surface approach deprives the reader of a deeper awareness of the period. This is not to say that Dr Johnson's London ignores the plight of the poor — Picard considers foundling hospitals, inhuman living conditions in slums, and the often tragic dependence of the poor on gin — merely that to begin to understand a time so far from our own, yet paradoxically SO similar, requires more than description alone. But taken as a simple survey of London in the mid-18th century, Dr John- son's London is an enjoyable book, casting light on everything from wigs to shoe- buckles, and from cisterns to garden- design.
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