February 14, 2024 · 4:28 pm

Georgian Security or A Matter of Grave Concern

A few days ago, I was visiting the church in the tiny village of Hilton, when I discovered a remarkable relic of a crime that no longer exists.

This crime, which no longer exists, as the ‘need’ for it has vanished, was body snatching. During the eighteenth century medicine made rapid process in one area in particular, anatomy. The structure of the human body was understood as never before, and whilst there were wonderful drawings and models of the human body available, everybody recognised that medical students needed hands on experience of the structure of the human body. Indeed the Royal College of Surgeons required that a student had to have been present at the dissection of at least two cadavers, before he could qualify.


There was only one legal source of bodies for dissection, persons executed for felonies, of which there weren’t that many and also those bodies were only available to the Royal College school. Because there were many people who wanted to be doctors and surgeons, a large number of private schools were set up, and they needed bodies for dissection, for these schools there was only one possible source, the body snatchers or resurrection men.


These men (there were women involved in the trade, but they tended to be lodging house keepers who sold the bodies of people who died in their house) opened graves of newly buried people, removed the bodies and took them to the medical schools. They operated in a curious grey area of the law, as if they were not caught actually digging up the grave, and only took the body, they could escape prosecution, as the body couldn’t belong to anybody. A person couldn’t be owned when alive, so their corpse couldn’t be owned when dead.


Professional resurrectionists could exhume several bodies a night, and leave the graves as tidy as they were before, but even the overcrowded churchyards of the cities could not provide enough corpses to satisfy the needs of the medical schools. Graves were opened in more rural areas, a body could be tightly bound and made to fit in a container little over two feet square, placed on a stage coach and be in London in only a day or so at most.


The trade ended in 1832, with the passing of the Anatomy Act, medical schools were now licensed, and a supply of subjects for dissection was made available to trainee doctors. The former resurrection men found themselves without a job, loathed by the public, and most died in poverty.

Death coming for the Grave Robbers

So what was it I found in a churchyard in Dorset?


People were understandably worried about the possibility of their relatives bodies being stolen. So, in many places, they tried to prevent this. The simplest, and least efficient, was to employ someone to watch the graveyard, in some paces special buildings were made to provide shelter for the watchmen. Unfortunately watchmen could be bribed, or given generous presents of spirits so they slept through the robbery. Indeed many professional resurrectionists were originally watchmen, who had been dismissed for letting too many bodies be stolen

If you could afford it you took the matter into your own hands since, to steal a body.


A small opening was dug down to the head of the coffin, which was then broken open, and the body was pulled up with a rope, fastened either round the neck or under the armpits. (from The Diary of a Resurrectionist 1811-1812, by James Blake Bailey, published 1896)


There were three main ways of protecting a body, first use an iron coffin, it was impossible to get into, but had two drawbacks, first they were very expensive, second they were unpopular with the managers of graveyards as they would never rot, and make it impossible to ever reuse the burial plot.


Second the corpse was firmly attached to the coffin, usually by iron bands bolted over the body.


And the third method, this is what I found in the churchyard at Hilton. A metal cage, over the grave. This was called a Mortsafe, it was driven into the ground around and over the coffin. This one probably belonged to the parish, it would be placed over a new grave, and left there until the next burial which, in a small parish would probably be several months later, when it would be lifted and placed over the next burial.


In 1848, the date on the gravestone, it was used for the last time. Body snatching was now a thing of the past, and so it was never reused and remains, a rare relic of a, happily, forgotten crime.

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January 8, 2024 · 10:56 pm

Home Security, Dickensian Style.

In early 1837 the career criminal Bill Sikes, prepared to burgle a house in Chertsey, Surrey. It was occupied, he thought, by an old woman and a few servants, and should be an easy job. However the doors and windows were tightly barred at night, the only possible access was through a very small window. Sikes asked his accomplice, Fagin, for a suitable small boy, he selected Oliver Twist, who proved very unwilling.

Here, Bill, wrench the shutter open. ……
Sikes, invoking terrific imprecations upon Fagin’s head for sending Oliver on such an errand, plied the crowbar vigorously, but with little noise. After some delay, and some assistance from Toby, the shutter to which he had referred, swung open on its hinges.
It was a little lattice window, about five feet and a half above the ground, at the back of the house: which belonged to a scullery, or small brewing-place, at the end of the passage. The aperture was so small, that the inmates had probably not thought it worthwhile to defend it more securely; but it was large enough to admit a boy of Oliver’s size, nevertheless. A very brief exercise of Mr. Sike’s art, sufficed to overcome the fastening of the lattice; and it soon stood wide open also.
“Now listen, you young limb,” whispered Sikes, drawing a dark lantern from his pocket, and throwing the glare full on Oliver’s face; “I’m a going to put you through there. Take this light; go softly up the steps straight afore you, and along the little hall, to the street door; unfasten it, and let us in.”

This scene, and it’s aftermath was accurately depicted in the first full film adaptation of Oliver Twist, a silent film from 1922.

On a recent visit to Mompesson House, a National Trust property in Salisbury. I saw this window, clearly the occupant, about two hundred years ago, was worried that a Salisbury equivalent of Bill Sykes, might make an unauthorised visit.

They also protected their back door, the rest of the doors and windows were protected by substantial locks and shutters.


Curiously we had visited Mompesson House, in order to see their Christmas decorations, based around ‘A Christmas Carol’.

Just round the corner from Mompesson House, in another house with a delightful story, you can read about it here.

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December 25, 2023 · 11:45 am

Three Centuries of Christmas

Decorations through the ages.

Eighteenth Century

A reconstruction of a Georgian Christmas Decoration, the tale is told here.

Nineteenth Century

A Victorian Christmas Decoration, the tale is told here

Twentieth Century

This was bought in the 1950’s in Germany, there is a tale to be told about this, I may tell it one day, though it is not really mine to tell.

Happy Christmas

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December 22, 2023 · 10:28 pm

The Mistletoe Bough – A Christmas Tradition Changed by a Song!

A while ago I blogged about how a carol lost its popular tune to a comic song, this time I will tell the story how a Christmas decoration lost its name to another popular song.
The predecessor to the Christmas Tree was the Mistletoe Bough or Kissing Bough. In the eighteenth century both terms were used interchangeably.

Francis Wheatley – The Mistletoe Bough

Then, in about 1830, Thomas Haynes Bayly (1787 – 1839), wrote a Christmas song. Though not, perhaps, what we would think of as a particularly Christmassy one.

The Mistletoe Bough

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall;
And the Baron’s retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping the Christmas holiday.
The Baron beheld with a father’s pride,
His beautiful child, young Lovell’s bride;
And she, with her bright eyes seemed to be,
The star of that goodly company.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

“I’m weary of dancing, now,” she cried,
“Here, tarry a moment, I’ll hide – I’ll hide;
And, Lovell, be sure thou’rt the first to trace
The clue to my secret lurking place.”
Away she ran, and her friends began,
Each tower to search and each nook to scan.
And young Lovell cried, “Oh, where dost thou hide?
I’m alone without thee, my own fair bride.”
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain when a week passed away.
In the highest – the lowest – the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly, but found her not.
And years flew by, and their grief at last,
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past.
When Lovell appear’d, all the children cried,
“See the old man weeps for his fairy bride.”
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

At length an old chest that had long laid hid,
Was found in the castle – they raised the lid —
And a skeleton form lay mouldering there,
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair.
Oh, sad was her fate! – in sportive jest,
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest —
It closed with a spring! – and dreadful doom,
And the bride lay clasp’d in her living tomb.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.
(this is the earliest version I have been able to find)

It is still popular with folk singers today,

The Mistletoe Bough sung by Jackie Oates

And has been dramatized at various times, as in this early film from 1904, there are some pretty impressive special effects for the period.

The Mistletoe Bough (1904) restored by the British Film Institute

As you might expect, a good number of places in England (and Italy) have claimed to be the original location of the events of the tale, but it seems that it was just made up from a mixture of tales from a number of separate places.

A Kissing Bough – Engraved by Joan Hassel

And as for the Mistletoe Bough, well who wants to hang a bunch of mistletoe up, then sing a gruesome song under it, it would definitely put you off kissing under it. So the Kissing Bough it became.

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December 19, 2023 · 9:23 pm

Holly against Christmas – Reconstructing a Georgian Christmas Decoration.

In 1788, the Rev. James Woodforde, Vicar of Weston Longville in Norfolk, wrote in his diary.

DEC. 24 …. This being Christmas Eve I had my Parlour Windows dressed as usual with Hulver-Boughs [holly] well seeded with red-Berries, and likewise in Kitchen.

This was the only type of Christmas decoration he mentioned, and indeed holly seems to have been the main way of decorating the house (ivy and mistletoe were popular for making ‘kissing boughs’ but, apart from a few important exceptions, these had dropped down the social ladder and tended to be found in the servants hall.)

Parson Woodforde said that he used holly for decorating his parlour windows, how this was done is a bit of a puzzle, there are a few pictures showing how windows were decorated.

Settling the Affairs of the Nation1775.

Sprigs of holly were stuck in the windows, either to the glass itself, or to the glazing bars. Exactly how this was done I don’t know, I have tried on the sash windows in my own home and could not find a way that worked. Gluing the holly to the window was possible, using modern glues. I couldn’t find an eighteenth century glue that was effective, however there is one that might have worked ‘birdlime’, this was actually made from holly, and used for catching birds. I couldn’t find a recipe as the practice of catching birds in this fashion is now illegal. The sprigs might have been nailed to the glazing bars but this seems improbable.

Occasionally Parson Woodforde faced the problem we all have experienced collecting holly for decorations.

1796, DEC. 26, SATURDAY We were obliged to have Hulver-branches without berries to dress up our Windows &c. against Christmas, the Weather having been so severe all this Month, that the poor Birds have entirely already stript the Bushes.

Gathering holly was a seasonal occupation for many rural people, in Norfolk Parson Woodforde bought his from a widow, possibly as a charitable act.

1782 DEC. 24. …. To Widow Horner for Hulver agains[t] Xmas day gave 1.0. The same I used to give to her late Husband.

Whilst in towns and cities, greenery could be bought in the market.

London Courier and Evening Gazette – Wednesday 25 December 1805
Yesterday was a crowded market at Covent Garden, according to ancient custom; for those Christmas ever-greens, which are the seasonable decorations of John Bull’s mansion; men and boys were busily employed throughout the day in buying holly bushes and green ivy, while the damsels of every description seemed to deal for nothing but the kiss-inviting misletoe!

As one might guess, enterprising criminals cashed in on this seasonal demand.

Statesman (London) – Friday 25 December 1818
George Fisher and William Ranmerston were committed for cutting down a waggon-load of the holly hedge round the garden of Mr. Johnson, Muswell-hill. They had cut down a great deal in mere wantonness; the rest to sell for Christmas decorations.

When the ‘men and boys’ got the holly home, how was it displayed?

From ‘Christmas, a Poem’, by Romaine Joseph Thorn, 1795
From every hedge is pluck’d by eager hands,
The HOLLY BRANCH, with prickly leaves replete,
And fraught with berries, of a crimson hue;
Which, torn asunder from its parent trunk,
Is straightway taken to the neighb’ring towns,
Where windows, mantels, candlesticks, and shelves,
Quarts, pints, decanters, pipkins, basons, jugs,
And other articles of household ware,
The verdant garb confess.

Holly was displayed in mugs and tankards.

And in vases.

This type of decoration I could reconstruct, I happen to have a ‘bough pot’ a vase with a cover pierced with holes to take single stems of flowers, or twigs with blossom or berries, which dates from the end of the eighteenth century. I knew there were a couple of holly bushes ‘fraught with berries, of a crimson hue’ on a path that leads through the avenue at the back of our house. Twelve berried sprigs were taken and fitted into the bough pot, to create a two hundred and fifty year old Christmas decoration.

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December 11, 2023 · 7:01 pm

War, to Peace, and back to War – Can you hear me?

It is a while since I talked about some discoveries in Charity Shops, so here are a couple, of very similar objects, and which have a connection to a curious invention, intended for the Second World War, which was completely obsolete before the war began.
This is the first one, I saw it as it lay in the window, I was curious and as I examined it I realised that it was what I thought, an early ear trumpet, a hearing aid.

It is a simple tube, with a bell at one end, and at the other a fitting for an earpiece. This was the only type of hearing aid available for millennia, simply one person put the ear piece in their ear and the other spoke in the bell.

Having this ear trumpet, I naturally took the opportunity of trying it, I attached a short length of plastic tubing, and a modern earpiece to the end. This does amplify the sound of someone speaking directly into it, but it was not too effective otherwise.

On the side of the bell is a crude casting of a military badge, I am told that it is of the Light Infantry. This is not really surprising as military men often suffered from deafness. One lady once asked the Duke of Wellington if he knew why he was deaf he simply, and accurately, replied,
“Too much artillery, Madam.”

A few weeks ago the same charity shop had this in the window, I was amazed as these are not common. The staff were delighted to discover what it was.

As the nineteenth century progressed scientists discovered more about sound, and by the end of the century this type of ear trumpet was developed. A specially designed dish focussed the sound on the end of the ear tube, the ‘sound mirror’ could be rotated to pick up sound from a particular direction.

Unfortunately these innovations came too late, this type of hearing aid is the last purely ‘mechanical’ form. At the same time as this was designed, the first electrical hearing aids were developed. They were very bulky and inconvenient, until the First World War.

One of the most terrifying aspects of the fighting was the underground war, both sides drove tunnels under the opposing trenches, aiming to blow them up. Tunnels were also dug to locate and intercept enemy tunnels, listening devices were developed and improved to help find them. Then after the war ended the newly developed technology was applied to hearing aids and the mechanical types disappeared.

WW1 acoustic mirror near Kilnsea Grange, East Yorkshire, picture from Wikipedia

But the carefully designed sound mirrors still had a role. Towards the end of the war massive concrete dishes were built along the east coat of England to try and detect enemy airships and later aeroplanes, by focussing sound onto a microphone. They were partially successful, and so a decade after the end of the war more were built along the south coast.

WW2 acoustic mirrors at RAF Denge, Kent, picture from Wikipedia

However as they were being built Radar was being developed, and by 1939 they were completely obsolete.

Sound mirrors still have a function, parabolic microphones use sound mirrors to focus sound onto a microphone, and are still used to record wildlife.
So here we have an invention, that has gone from war to peace to war and peace again, and has left us with a very useful device.

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October 15, 2023 · 7:21 pm

Georgian Reflections – Looking in the Mirror

In a previous blog I talked about some unusual ways in which mirrors were used in the long eighteenth century but, of course, there were others. From ancient times the main use of mirrors was for people to look at themselves. This could be taken to unusual extremes.

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Crowning Glory (1772)

Madame du Barry, courtesan and maîtresse-en-titre (official mistress) of King Louis XV had.

[A] looking-glass, … of the most exquisite beauty and taste. It was ornamented at the top with two Cupids holding a crown, in such a manner that Madame du Barry could not look in the glass without seeing herself crowned.

Sadly her ‘exquisite beauty and taste’ didn’t save her during the Revolution when she was denounced by a servant she had dismissed.

It is possible that ‘The Sleeping Beauty’ wax work, automaton at Madam Tussauds is a representation of Mme du Barry.

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Putting you in the Picture (1799)

The artist Jacques-Louis David had been an early supporter of the French Revolution, but like many revolutionaries fell out of favour. He needed to make a positive impression with the new authorities, so decided to make a dramatic statement with a new painting, “The Intervention of the Sabine Women” this tells the story of how the Sabine women who had been kidnapped by the early Romans, they were short of women in their new city, intervened to stop a war between the Sabine men (their avenging fathers and brothers) and the Romans (now their husbands and fathers of their children), as a symbol of reconciliation it was ideal for the new France. But he was not just relying on the, admittedly great, painting to show that he was France’s greatest artist, but he was to use mirrors in a novel fashion to create an unforgettable experience.

Instead of exhibiting the painting in the official “Palace of the Arts” he rented a nearby hall, where he placed his massive (12 by 17 feet) canvas, it was not only carefully lit, but on the opposite wall to the painting was a large mirror. Visitors would see themselves, apparently within the painting. Considering that, at the time, women’s fashion was based on classical designs, the effect was remarkable. Women would stand for ages, rapt in the vision of themselves standing in ancient Rome.

An unidentified ancient Greek woman, statue in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Madame de Verninac, by David.

David’s position was assured.

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September 19, 2023 · 8:02 pm

Georgian Crime Fighting – Georgian Forensics

Bow Street Investigates,


On January 5th, 1835, an attempted robbery took place in Hamilton Place, Southampton. The burglars entered by a broken window and forced open a door, they had already collected a number of pieces of silver, when they were disturbed by the butler, who they shot at, then fled.


Fortunately the butler, Joseph Randall, was unharmed, but local people were very worried, as were the magistrates, so word was sent to Bow Street, in London. Henry Goddard, an experienced ‘runner’ was sent to Hampshire and began his investigation.


He was struck by a number of inconsistencies, first the broken window,
‘from the pieces of glass being on the outside, he was sure they must have been broken from within.’


Then there was the forced door,
He had ‘seen the marks of violence on the doors, and it appeared to him that they must have been made from the inside, — there were no marks on the outside, which must have been the case had it been forced from thence.’


Finally there was the shot, he first,
‘examined the window and the hole in the shutter, and had the pistol been fired and he (Randall) in the position he stated, the ball must have passed through his (Randall’s) body, — that he had examined Randall and found no marks of violence about his person.’


And then there was the bullet, Goddard took the bullet he had extracted from the wainscoting and the bullets from the pistol owned by Joseph Randall.
‘I occupied myself for some little time in looking at the discharged bullet; and on comparing it closely with the others I discovered a very small round pimple on all the bullets, including the one alleged to have been discharged. In looking into the mould there was a very little hole hardly so large as the head of a small pin, and this I found accounted for the pimples.’


With all this evidence Joseph Randall admitted that it was all a lie, he had been worried he was about to be dismissed, and invented a robbery to convince his mistress he was indispensable. He wasn’t prosecuted, but he did lose his job.

Pistol balls, of the type examined by Henry Goddard

The quotations are from the press reports of the time, and from Henry Goddard’s memoires.


Cheating at the Races, a remarkable story of scientific investigation, from 1836.


[At] the St. Leger of 1834 [there was] this singular fraud. A bet of a thousand guineas was made by two persons, renowned on the turf, whom we call A. and B. A. backed the field against certain horses named by B., of which Touchstone, the winner, was not one. B., however, claimed the bet, and produced his list, in which Touchstone, the winner, was named at the bottom of it. A. also produced his list in which Touchstone the winner was not named by B.; and was therefore of course a winner for him. The Jockey Club was resorted to, and the following was the result of their investigation: -“The name of Touchstone,” said Mr. Wilson, the father of the turf, “certainly appears in B.’s list, and apparently written with the same ink. Now my old friend Robarts, the banker told me, there is a species of ink that can be made to match any shade which that liquid may exhibit, if examined by daylight; but if put to the test of a candle, a difference of tint is plainly shown. Let the room be made dark, then, and candles produced.” Now mark the result, which we are sorry thus to proclaim to the world, particularly as the offending party writes Honourable before his name. “Let the gentlemen be shown into the room,” said Mr. Wilson; when he pronounced the following verdict: -“A. wins from B. one thousand guineas!”…..
It was a forgery! Gentlemen of England dissociate yourselves from persons who have thus disgraced your order; or, if that be impossible, withdraw yourselves at once from the turf.

A Georgian race, by Thomas Rowlandson


Two of the most remarkable stories of Georgian crime investigation I have come across.


Henry Goddard, Memoirs of a Bow Street Runner 1956
Hampshire Advertiser – Saturday 24 January 1835
‘Nimrod’ The Road 1836

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September 10, 2023 · 7:46 pm

Georgian Crime Fighting – A Matter of Mirrors

In 1831 Dorset was struck by a series of riots, in favour of the government policy of parliamentary reform, during which many private houses were attacked. One house in Dorset had to fit a new front door, with a very unusual fanlight.

This consists of a prism shaped glass box, containing a mirror, fitted over the door.

This enables the person inside being able to see who is outside, without being seen themselves. If they were to look out of a window they would be an immediate target for stones and bricks (the everyday items of Georgian political protest).

This use of mirrors to see what was happening outside wasn’t just used for security, they could just be a curiosity, in 1797, William Gell visited Crosthwaite’s museum in Keswick. As well as a miscellaneous collection from bones of giants to ‘a Chinese Gong which produced a most thundering sound that cannot fail to attract the notice of the unfortunate strangers in the street.’


Here he discovered that,


‘[Mr Crosthwaite] has mirrors in every direction at the windows, by which he instantly sees every carriage that comes from any of the neighbouring towns, though he sits not near any of the windows himself.’


This use of specially angled mirrors, to enable people to see an outside view, that wouldn’t otherwise be possible, can be found today in the Ringing Chamber of St Peter’s Church, Dorchester. The leader of the ringers can look into one mirror.

And see a second mirror.

Which shows the Town Hall Clock through the window.

So that they can work out when the service is beginning or ending.

Mirrors are also part of Camera Obscuras, I have described these in previous blogs. One popular type was a temporary structure that could be erected at fairs, races, etc.

In 1825 the Manchester Mercury reported.


Saturday. April 9, 1825. Knot Mill Fair. —This arena for almost every enjoyment the Holiday Folks in the Easter Week, has been remarkably well attended, and we think more so this year than usual, particularly from the propitious state of the weather. It would appear from the following circumstance, that public utility were in some decree allied to entertainment upon these festive occasions; for we understand that when the Beadles of the Town treated themselves with a peep into “the Camera Obscura,” they in an instant recognised an individual or two whom they found it their duty pay their respects to— they were of the diving fraternity, alias pickpockets. – The Officers sallied out, and immediately apprehended them.

This wasn’t an isolated incident, in the New Times (London) – Tuesday 24 August 1824


THE CAMERA OBSCURA – An occurrence originated in a camera obscura lately exhibited in Glasgow, which shews the important use to which this amusing optical apparatus may be applied. A visitor happening to be examining, with great interest, the various lively and ever shifting figures which were portrayed upon the white tablet during the exhibition, when he beheld with amazement the appearance of one man picking another’s pocket. Perfectly aware of the reality of this appearance, he opened the door, and recognising the culprit at a short distance, ran up and seized him in the very act of depredation. It is perhaps unnecessary to add, that he was immediately handed over to the police. From this circumstance, the utility of placing such apparatus in all the places of public amusement and exhibitions must be obvious. Whether it might be proper to erect it in the streets of’ a populous city like Glasgow, and to place it under the inspection of an officer for the detection of mischief and crime, is a matter worthy of the consideration of the local authorities. Would it not be an eligible, plan, indeed, to employ the camera obscura of the Observatory (which is not otherwise in use) to take a view of what is passing in the streets of the town, and communicate the result, if necessary, to the police office or the gaol by means of a telegraph? If the Observatory be considered too far off; the apparatus could be fixed up near the top of the Tron or Cross steeple. By this means the necessity of sending out emissaries to reconnoitre the conduct of the lieges would be superseded, since everything would then take place as it were under the eye of the police; and if any impropriety or misconduct were observed, it would only be necessary to send a posse to the spot.

Unfortunately the dream of a Georgian CCTV system never materialised.

References
William Gell, Tour of the Lakes in 1797

[I am a great believe in serendipity, and this blogs bears this out. I was planning to write this blog three days ago, then today I visited the ringing chamber of St Peter’s and saw, for the first time, the remarkable mirror system.]

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September 8, 2023 · 9:49 pm

Seeing Through Past Eyes, Cameras before Photography

In an earlier blog I discussed the ways in which people in the eighteenth century viewed the landscape, using Claude Glasses, mirrors in which to admire a view. On one occasion the poet Thomas Gray remarked.
From hence I got to the parsonage a little before sun-set, and saw in my glass a picture that if I could transmit to you, and fix it in all the softness of its living colours, would fairly sell for a thousand pounds.


Unfortunately for Mr Gray the only way available at the time to capture the image, was to draw or paint the scene. However, to help with this there was a different optical technology, the first cameras. Specifically Camera Obscuras and Camera Lucidas, I have previously described how I reconstructed a Camera Lucida and a Box Camera Obscura, but there is another type of Camera Obscura, and I recently reconstructed one of these.

The Tent or Booth Camera Obscura

In 1620 Henry Wooton, a British diplomat, described the camera designed by the astronomer Johannes Kepler, which he had seen in Holland.


He hath a little black tent (of what stuff is not much importing) which he can suddenly set up where he will in a field, and it is convertible (like a Wind-mill) to all quarters at pleasure, capable of [accommodating] not much more than one man, as I conceive, and perhaps at no great ease; exactly close and dark, save at one hole, about an inch and a half in the Diameter, to which he applies a long perspective-trunke, [part of a telescope] ………….. through which the visible radiations of all the objects without are intromitted, falling upon a paper, which is accommodated to receive them; and so he traceth them with his Pen in their natural appearance.


What this means is that a lens and mirror are mounted above the user, at the apex of a tent or other structure, and projects the image downwards onto a horizontal board. This type of camera may have been used by Vermeer.

To build it a lens was mounted in a carboard box with a mirror at a 45 degree angle to project the image downwards. It was fixed to a wooden frame that held it firm, then the whole was covered with blackout fabric so that the user sat exactly close and dark and certainly at no great ease. The picture is inverted and shows considerable distortion around the edges, though the distortion can be reduced by improving the lenses. By changing the position of the user, essentially sitting with their back to the view, the image would not be inverted.

Sitting At no Little Ease in a Camera Obscura

The image, as projected downwards

The Built or Tower Camera Obscura
The basic principle of the Camera Obscura was known in antiquity, a small hole is made in the shutters of a darkened room (which is what Camera Obscura means) and an image of the outside world is projected onto the opposite wall, this is the technology behind the ‘pinhole’ camera. By the seventeenth century lenses and mirrors had been added to the ‘pinhole’ which made the camera much more efficient.


The Built Camera Obscura was a building, containing a darkened room with a combination of lenses and mirrors, usually on the roof that projected an image onto a white table, this type of camera was, primarily built as a tourist attraction. At one time they were widespread, few survive, but an excellent example can still be seen at Bristol, the Clifton Observatory above the Avon Gorge in Bristol, which was built in a converted windmill in 1829.

The Pictures and Video of the Clifton Observatory were kindly supplied by my brother
Camera Obscura on the end of the pier at Margate in about 1900

Smaller versions were often found at seaside resorts. In the mid-19th century Edward Alderson, a Norfolk circuit judge, described a Camera Obscura in a letter to his cousin Amelia Opie, in Norwich.


Today I have been to see Mr. B——–‘s camera obscura [probably in Lowestoft]. The effect was really beautiful. The sea sparkled in the sun, and the waves moved, dashing themselves on the shore. The ships sailed on, and a steamer came by whilst we were looking at it. I was quite as much pleased at it as the children. M——– was quite astonished to see a moving picture, and very much delighted when I sent the boys down to jump about on the grass bank, which we saw them in the picture doing. I think this part of the exhibition pleased the most. But I liked the sparkling sun, shiny sea, and the moving ships far better…

Even today, people are still amazed when they see the images in a Camera Obscura move.
Semi-portable versions were also built, these were taken around fairs, race meetings etc. An advertisement from the Chester Chronicle of 1792 shows this type, it must have been similar to a modern garden summer house.


There are some curious stories about this type of Camera Obscura, but that will have to wait for another occasion.

Alderson, Charles. Selections from the Charges & Other Detached Papers of Baron Alderson, with an Introductory Notice of His Life. 1858 quoted in Early Norfolk Photographs
Gray, Thomas. Journal of A Visit to the Lake District in 1769
Wotton, Henry. Reliquiae Wottonianae, 1651

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