By the fireside, in health and disease, and in the separations and contingencies of family life, we must look for the drawbacks which our great-grandfathers had to put up with during that remarkable period which closed and opened the two centuries, when great changes ever seemed on the eve of being born, yet ever eluded the grasp of the reformer. What a sluggish, silent, nerveless world, it must have been as we now think! On the other side of the cloud, which shut out the future, were most of the contributories to the noisy current of our modern life—from express trains and steam hammers to lucifer matches and tram cars! Steel pens, photographs, postage stamps, and even envelopes, umbrellas, telegrams, pianofortes, ready-made clothes, public opinion, gas lamps, vaccination, and a host of other things which now form a part of our daily life, were all unknown or belonged to the future. But there were a few other things which found a place in the home which are not often met with now—the weather-house (man for foul weather and woman for fine)—bellows, child's pole from ceiling to floor with swing, candlestick stands, chimney pot-hook, spinning wheel, bottle of leeches, flint gun, pillow and bobbins for lace, rush-lights, leather breeches, and a host of other things now nearly obsolete. In the better class houses there was a grandfather's clock, and possibly a "windmill" clock, but in many villages if you could not fix the time by the sun "you might have to run half over the village to find a clock."
One of the primal fountains of our grandfathers' domestic comforts was the tinder-box and flint and steel. Without this he could neither have basked in the warmth of the Yule-log nor satisfied the baby in the night time. But even this was not sufficient without matches, and, as Bryant and May had not been heard of, this article was made on the spot. In Royston, as in other places, matches were made and sold from door to door by the paupers from the Workhouse, by pedlars driving dog carts, or by gipsies, and the trade of match-makers obtained the dignified title of "Carvers and Gilders." At by-ways where a tramp, a pedlar, or a pauper, did not reach, paterfamilias, or materfamilias, became "carver and gilder" to the household, and made their own matches. In one case I find the Royston Parish Authorities setting up one of the paupers with a supply of wood "to make skewers and matches to sell."
TINDER-BOX, FLINT, STEEL, AND MATCHES.
The tinder-box, like other household requisites in all ages, was sometimes very homely, sometimes of "superior" make. The above illustration is of one rather out of the common, and the artist has brought the different parts together rather than showing the process, for the lid would have to be removed before the tinder beneath could be fired. The most common form of tinder-box was an oblong wooden box, of two compartments, one for the tinder and the other for flint and steel. At Elbrook House, Ashwell, is one, in the possession of Edward Snow Fordham, Esq., said to be two hundred years old. The process of getting a light by means of the tinder-box involved a little manual dexterity and mental philosophy—if the fugitive spark from the striking of the flint and steel set alight to the tinder, well; you then had simply to light your clumsy sulphur-tipped skewer-like "match," and there you were! If the tinder happened to be damp, as it sometimes was, and the spark wouldn't lay hold, you were not one bit nearer quieting the baby, or meeting whatever might be the demand for a light in the night time, than was an ancient Briton ages ago! When the modern match was first introduced as the "Congreve" the cost was 2s. 6d. for fifty, or about 1/2d. each, and when, a few years later, the lucifer match was introduced, they were sold at four a penny! Now you can get more than four well-filled boxes for a penny!
In the first quarter of the century the supply of fuel was very different from now. By slow and difficult means did coal arrive. Cambridge was the nearest centre for this district, and thence the coal used in Royston was obtained. Tedious and troublesome was the process of dragging it along bad roads, and between Cambridge and Royston this made a difference of about 7s. per ton in the price. Farm labourers, when agreeing for their harvest month, generally obtained, either by bargain or by custom, the right of the use of one of their master's horses and carts after harvest for a day to fetch coals from Cambridge. Another concession made by the farmer to the men was that each man was allowed after harvest a load of "haulm," or wheat stubble, left in the field from reaping time. This "haulm" was useful not only for lighting fires with, but, like the bean stubs, for heating those capacious brick ovens in the old chimney corners, in which most of the cottagers then baked their own bread. Sometimes the stage wagoners brought a "mixed" cargo, and put coals into their wagons to fill up, and undersold the dealers (at less than 13d. a bushel), and the practice was complained of at Cambridge, more especially respecting Royston and Buntingford districts.
It may seem strange now to speak of persons, even at a hospitable board, having taken too much salt, carefully replacing some of it, upon economical grounds; but, considering that there was then a duty of a guinea a bushel upon this necessary article, it is not surprising. Our grandfathers paid about 6d. a pound for their salt; the commonest calico was 10d. a yard, and printed calicoes 2s. 2d. per yard. In 1793 the average price of sugar, wholesale, was 66s. 7 1/2d. per cwt., exclusive of duty. Between 1810 and the Battle of Waterloo were many times of scarcity, with wheat varying from 100s. to 126s. a quarter, and some in Royston market reached 20s. a bushel. As to clothing, there were very few ready-made clothes, and the village tailor was a man of importance when leather breeches and smock frocks were in general demand. A smock frock, washed till it was quite white, was as common a sight then as was the scarlet cloak worn by our great-grandmothers, but both these familiar sights have disappeared as completely as the yellow leather top boots, to be seen on Sundays up till fifty years ago in the Churchyards of rural England.
