Horse-drawn cabs rattling down muddy roads, cattle herded through the streets to the Smithfield meat market for slaughter, roosters crowing at the break of dawn—London was once filled with a cacophony of animal noises (and smells). But over the last thirty years, the city seems to have banished animals from its streets. In Beastly London, Hannah Velten uses a wide range of primary sources to explore the complex and changing relationship between Londoners of all classes and their animal neighbors. Velten travels back in history to describe a time when Londoners shared their homes with pets and livestock—along with a variety of other pests, vermin, and bedbugs; Londoners imported beasts from all corners of the globe for display in their homes, zoos, and parks; and ponies flying in hot air balloons and dancing fleas were considered entertainment. As she shows, London transformed from a city with a mainly exploitative relationship with animals to the birthplace of animal welfare societies and animal rights’ campaigns. Packed with over one hundred illustrations, Beastly London is a revealing look at how animals have been central to the city’s success.
Tracing the emergence of the domestic kitchen from the 17th to the middle of the 19th century, Sara Pennell explores how the English kitchen became a space of specialised activity, sociability and strife. Drawing upon texts, images, surviving structures and objects, The Birth of the English Kitchen, 1600-1850 opens up the early modern English kitchen as an important historical site in the construction of domestic relations between husband and wife, masters, mistresses and servants and householders and outsiders; and as a crucial resource in contemporary heritage landscapes.
Horses, Human Society, and the Discourse of Modernity
Author: Kristen Guest
Category: Animals and civilization
"This work places the modern period (post-1700) at the center of the scholarship on horses as they relate to humans, showing how the horse has remained central to the accelerating culture of modernity. The contributors investigate specific equine cultures--from the performance of social power and the definition of heritage in Europe, Australia, and the Americas, to explorations of the ways horses figure in distinctively modern genres of the self, such as autobiography, biography, and photographic portraiture."--Supplied by publisher.
Daphne du Maurier’s correspondence with Oriel Malet began in the early 1950s, after they met at a cocktail party in London. At least twenty years separated them: Oriel was a gauche young writer while Daphne was the famous, much-fêted author of bestselling novels including Jamaica Inn, My Cousin Rachel, and Rebecca. The friendship flourished for thirty years, fed by the letters that arrived faithfully from Menabilly, the du Maurier house in Cornwall. While Oriel tasted life on a houseboat on the Seine and mixed with the aristocratic Who’s Who of Paris, Daphne’s letters tell of her family, past and present, her marriage to General Sir Frederick Browning—a war hero known privately as ‘Moper’ whose fits of melancholy caused many a crisis at Menabilly—and events like Prince Philip coming for dinner: ‘We’ve got only four knives with handles, and one silver candlestick must be glued!’ Most of all, her letters are a valuable record of the complex and rigorous art of a fine and well-loved writer: the ‘brewing’ of a plot, the research, and the ‘pegging’ of secret fantasies onto a living person in order to create classical characters such as Cousin Rachel and Roger Kylmerth. Disarmingly frank about sex, an earnest seeker after spiritual and psychological truth, Daphne du Maurier is revealed in her letters as an inspiring and delightful correspondent—as well as a once-in-a-lifetime friend.
An important human trait is our inclination to develop complex relationships with numerous other species. In the great majority of cases however, these mutualistic relationships involve a pair of species, whose co-evolution has been achieved through behavioural adaptation driving positive selection pressures. Humans go a step further, opportunistically and, it sometimes seems, almost arbitrarily elaborating relationships with many other species, whether through domestication, pet-keeping, taming for menageries, deifying, pest-control, conserving iconic species, or recruiting as mascots. When we consider medieval attitudes to animals we are tackling a fundamentally human, and distinctly idiosyncratic, behavioural trait. The sixteen papers presented here investigate animals from zoological, anthropological, artistic and economic perspectives, within the context of the medieval world.
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1907 edition. Excerpt: ...scorn of Thomas and his weariful official topics. She admired him, had pride in him. He was her centre and sun, the great man who, but for enemies and ill chances, would long ago have gained due official reward. But clearly she had views and interests of her own; and liked to give them expression. So, when opportunity came, she and I talked Devon and its glories, and Thomas thereupon magnified his London, and Rachel (it pleased me to hear the name again) in consequence made shrewd, yet always goodhumoured retort. "Beastly country indeed," she said once. "Beastly London, I say. Oh, dear me, it's hard to understand the taste of people who prefer to live in herds in miserable streets. Millions of them all breathing each other's breath, and always in each other's way, and always seeing only bricks and mortar. Have you ever been in Bethnal Green, Mr Thorne? Isn't it shocking to think of human beings caring to live there? And have you ever looked at the backs on the line from Victoria to Clapham Junction? Oh, dear me, dear me! And how much better are we here in Brixton? The life is so paltry and artificial. The people seem to have no nature, no character. They're all made up. They aren't really alive.... I had two ladies here this afternoon--Mrs Renshaw and her married daughter, Thomas--and they wearied me. The style of the poor dears, and their talk--just as though I didn't know their husbands were bank clerks! It's wicked, I know; but these suburban madams always make me talk and act like a dairymaid. I take a positive delight in making them gasp. Oh, I can hear them discussing me on the way home. 'Such a vulgar woman, my dear; but what can you expect of one bred in the country and married to a mere civil servant? Poor thing! I...