North American Natives had their own hygienic rituals and practices
In pre-Columbian North America, from what is now Mexico into the northern woods of modern-day Canada, Native Americans followed hygienic routines both religious and practical. Sweat lodges were used as primitive saunas, not too unlike the modern equivalent. Herbs and plants were distributed among rocks heated in the fires, fresh water poured over them, and the resultant steam and herbal diffusion enjoyed as both a purgative and cleansing ritual. After the steam bath, a dip in a nearby stream or lake, or water from same poured over the body, completed the ritual. However, the bather did not stay clean for long. Natives dealt with malicious critters, particularly during the warm months. Mosquitoes, fleas, no-see ‘ums, black flies, deer flies, and a plethora of other pests tormented their bodies, no matter how clean they were. The natives combatted the critters with animal fat.
From several large game animals, but prevalently from the black bear, the Natives created a lard rendered from the fat of the animal. This grease, with which they covered their bodies and hair, protected them to some extent from bites and stings. But it also went rancid quickly, especially in the summer heat, lending them an aroma which was surely none too pleasant. Many references among European colonizers to the unpleasant smell of the natives which eventually led to racial stereotypes stemmed from the practice of coating themselves with rancid bear grease. Buffalo was another source for grease, no doubt equally unpleasant. While trailblazers such as Daniel Boone, David Crockett, Simon Kenton, and others adopted the practice during their extended periods in the woods, they spoke disparagingly of it upon their return to the settlements. Their unbathed neighbors and friends were disgusted by their reports.
Cleanliness was a challenge even in the monasteries
In the early days of the medieval period, the monasteries represented the highest levels of human achievement in the fields of publishing, philosophy, science, agriculture, medicine, and mechanics. Yet even in the monasteries personal hygiene was difficult to achieve. In most, bathing of the entire body was limited to two or three times per year. Personal cleanliness was supported by the provision of wash basins, in which the good brothers would wash their hands and faces prior to meeting for their communal meals. The monasteries provided the water in the basins, and to ensure cleanliness made sure it was changed at least once per week. No doubt washing one’s face in water which had previously been used by countless brothers just before enjoying one’s breakfast was an invigorating experience. Most monasteries also thoughtfully provided towels.
From these and other arrangements, such as in the palaces and houses of the more well-to-do, it is evident that washing with water was not looked upon with disdain. People knew to wash, especially removing the day’s grime from their hands prior to enjoying their meals. They just didn’t know how to do it. The removal of grime could be confirmed visually, the removal of pathogens, which were at any rate wholly unknown, could not. Washing in water previously used by others for the same purpose was nonetheless still washing, and the cleansed hands could be presented at table without shame. They were used to extract victuals from the communal pot without concern of spreading disease. After all, the absence of visible dirt meant the hands were clean, fulfilling at least a small part of the unwritten social contract among civilized people.
Most medieval baths were actually showers of sorts
Fuel to heat water for baths was expensive, in more ways than one. In cities and larger towns it had to be purchased from woodcutters. In smaller towns and isolated communities it had to be cut, split, gathered, and stacked. One method took cash or barter, the other an investment in time. To apply such an investment to the heating of water for the purpose of taking a bath was deemed a luxury. Using enough hot water, heated with expensive firewood, to allow full immersion in a tub was an extravagance bordering on waste. Instead, most baths involved standing in a receptacle to catch water poured over one’s head from buckets or pitchers. Saving the water allowed it to be reused. Waste not, want not. In families with a single tub, the male head of the household bathed first, followed by the other males of the household.
The matron of the house followed the procession of males, after which daughters were bathed, based on their seniority. Thus, the last to be bathed was laved with water which had previously cleansed the bodies of parents and siblings. Only toddlers and infants were immersed, their older siblings were simply rinsed with increasingly dirty water. The youngest being bathed last is the source of the remonstrance not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Nobles and the wealthy had their own bathing rituals and procedures, which reflected their higher status. There is a reason the so-called common people have long been known, disparagingly, as the “great unwashed”. Bathing usually took place in early summer, and again in the late fall following the harvest, when all enjoyed their baths, whether they needed them or not. Soap, being expensive and often reserved for laundry, was optional.
In the great houses of the medieval ages nooks and closets designed to house chamber pots were not uncommon. In the early days of the period some even had running water, which flowed to cesspools outside the walls. Many considered their use optional, especially when one needed merely to urinate. Dark corners, empty fireplaces, behind tapestries and curtains, were all acceptable options, particularly among the gentlemen present. Retreating to a hidden closet temporarily removed oneself from the game at hand, the discussion of the hunt, the argument over politics, the convivial bowl, and the feminine company allowed in for the occasion.
That is not to say the use of the privy chamber was more frequent when not entertaining guests. Master and mistress, as well as their immediate servants, frequently answered calls to nature wherever nature found them when it presented the urge. In less affluent homes, the chamber pot was frequently ignored as well. Emptying and cleaning the convenience was frequently inconvenient, as in times of inclement weather. The fireplace offered a warmer alternative in the winter months especially. The use of privies improved as the medieval age advanced. However, throughout the period, and well into the Age of Reason, the use of unintended spaces to take one’s ease indoors was common.
For the average individual of the medieval period and ensuing centuries, life was a lousy proposition. Literally. Vermin shared the residences, the bedding, the clothing, and the bodies of the people. Scalps crawled with lice and fleas. Beds, mostly made of straw ticking, were liberally occupied with those creatures, as well as others including bedbugs. The more crowded the quarters, the greater the vermin population. Servants quarters in the great houses, where people were crowded together like olives in a jar, provided fertile breeding grounds for all forms of crawling pests, all anxiously awaiting an opportunity to ingest human blood. The curse of pestilence was not limited to the medieval age, it continued for centuries beyond that period. When George Washington, as a youth, wrote his rules of civility he addressed, at least in a sideways manner, the ubiquitous presence of vermin.
Washington was not the author of the 110 Rules of Civility today attributed to him. He copied them from a Jesuit text written in the 16th century. Among them, George dutifully reproduced, “13. Kill no vermin, as fleas, lice, ticks, etc. in the sight of others…” The obvious inference to be taken is that the presence of vermin was so common that one should not draw attention to it. They were simply an accepted fact of life. In the absence of disinfectants and strong soaps, and the infrequency of bathing and washing of clothes, there was simply no way to get rid of them. When watching films featuring the revealing gowns of the 17th and 18th century, it is difficult to imagine the wearer crawling with lice. But the character being represented most likely was.
Attempts at personal cleanliness were nonetheless known in the medieval world
Study of manuscripts and documents from the medieval period, particularly from the monasteries, are often cited as evidence of the somewhat lax hygienic practices of the day. Yet medieval monasteries have yielded written instructions regarding the washing of hands and faces prior to and following meals. To some, the written requirements to wash hands, personal hygiene at its most basic, offers evidence that the people of the day, even those considered more educated, needed to be instructed regarding hygiene. Many of the monasteries had separate rooms for the pre-dinner washing, called lavatoria. They, it should be noted, were separate from the rooms intended for relieving oneself, called latrines and privies. It was in the lavatoria written instructions on washing of the hands has been found. Consider that in terms of the present day. Written instructions regarding hand washing are commonplace in modern society.
Enter virtually any public restroom and such instructions can be found, many with illustrations to serve as guides for those who find reading simple English a challenge. In restaurants, there is usually another sign mandating employees wash their hands before returning to work. Surely an archaeologist of the 23rd century, exploring the artifacts of the 21st, will observe such relics and ponder their meaning, perhaps assuming that 21st century humanity practiced questionable hygiene, though the presence of sinks, running water, and other trappings will create a paradox. They had the means, but needed guidance? Most curious. The same consideration must be applied when judging the hygienic practice of our collective forebears. One can’t imagine it was more pleasant to be infested with lice and fleas in the medieval age than it is today. Surely, they must have tried to do something about it. But what?
The holder of the title Groom of the Stool held a job which placed him in close intimacy with his King. A largely British title which evolved under the Tudors, the Groom of the Stool was a position required only when the monarch was a male. His job was to remain in close proximity to the king until His Majesty determined his services were needed. At that time, the Groom approached his monarch bearing a small stool with an open seat. Within, beneath the seat, was affixed a chamber pot or other receptacle. Beneath the receptacle, safely stowed until needed, were rags, towels, water, and any other accoutrements favored by the king for cleaning up after relieving himself through defecation. The Groom then assisted his King in whatever manner necessary, before disposing of the results of the king’s efforts.
It should be noted that the word “Stool” of the title refers to the device carried about by the titular Groom, and not the organic matter deposited by His Majesty therein. Nor was the position looked down upon, as one may infer from its duties. Far from it. It became a position of considerable influence under Henry VIII. By the 18th century the holder of the title also held numerous other high responsibilities, including assisting the King in dressing in the morning, and he held sway over other servants of the bedchamber. Many Grooms of the Stool were peers of the realm, bearing the titles and styles of Marquess, Viscount, Earl, and Duke. John Stuart, who served as George III’s first Groom of the Stool, was 3rd Earl of Bute and eventually Prime Minister of Great Britain. Evidently it was a job with a future.
During the age of sail sea voyages were long affairs, with large crews packed into crowded conditions for months and even years. Also during the age of sail, captains noticed an interesting phenomena. The longer they were separated from the shore, the healthier their crews became, with the exception of scurvy, not yet understood to be preventable through consumption of fresh vegetables and fruit. Captains at sea rid their ships of vermin by smoking them out, of rats and mice by entrapment and the use of cats and dogs as predators. And their men, exposed to the weather, were cleaner than their counterparts ashore. So were their living quarters, as captains strove more and more to enhance discipline through enforced cleanliness.
A month or so at sea and colds and influenza vanished from the ship. Crews found themselves bathed by freshwater from rain, and salt water from rough seas. Captains began the practice of airing out bedding, as well as clothes, allowing fresh air and sunshine to do its work on formerly dank, damp, blankets and trousers. Sailors relieved themselves over the side, and there were no festering latrines to draw flies and other pestilence. Upon entering port, sailors quickly availed themselves of the usually unhygienic pleasures available ashore, and once back at sea a shaking out period was often necessary before the ship, and the sailors aboard it, were once again clean. But they soon were. Medical professionals, such as there were at the time, took note of the health of the sailors, and for the first time the benefits of “salt air” became a subject of debate.
As noted, the ancients bathed, and elaborate baths featured in ancient cities and towns. Even in the medieval period, bathing for pleasure rather than for cleanliness was common. Ancient documents, including the Bible, made mention of items to be used in addition to water in a bath; hyssop was favored in the books which became the Old Testament. Hyssop, an herb of the mint family, is frequently mentioned in the Bible, and was used to cleanse the skin of lepers. It was hyssop God instructed the Israelites to use to adorn their doorframes with sacrificial blood before the plague which slew the first born sons of the Egyptians (Exodus 1-11). In Psalm 51-7, David entreated God to cleanse him with hyssop: “Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow”.
Despite its Biblical applications, hyssop as a cleaning agent, at least as regards bathing for hygienic purposes, is lacking. The Bible specifies bathing with water, cleansing with water, immersion in water, but it does not describe many agents to be used in company with water to obtain cleanliness. Rinsing with scented water, the scent obtained from various plant oils, is not the same as cleanliness. For true hygienic purposes, a cleansing agent is necessary. Some agents used pumice to scrub away visible dirt. Numerous American Native tribes used the ashes from fires, followed by rinsing with water, followed by a sweat bath. By then, soap was known to some of the ancients, though its use for personal hygiene was not yet widely practiced.
Shaving is an overlooked aspect of the history of hygiene
As a procedure in the pursuit of personal hygiene, shaving has remained more or less unchanged since primitive man used sharpened rocks to scrape away unwanted facial hair. As unpleasant as that sounds, it was nonetheless an improvement. Evidence that primitive man removed facial hair by plucking has been found, meaning that primitive man was willing to forego considerable pain in pursuit of hirsute style. Native Americans also plucked facial and body hair, as well as the scalp, in order to obtain the tuft of longer hair known to posterity as the scalp lock, a sign of adulthood, and a potential trophy for enemies. While plucking has thankfully gone out of fashion, the removal of unwanted hair by scraping with a sharpened instrument remains the basis of shaving today. Even electric shavers, no matter how advanced, rely on a blade clipping the follicle without damaging the skin.
The question is why? There are cave drawings depicting men sans facial hair, indicating the desire for a close shave over 30,000 years old. In some societies full beards became the norm, in others smooth chins predominated. Some were cyclical. Review of photographs from the Victorian age indicates full beards were fashionable, even the norm, at least among the more affluent (full stomachs too, but that is a different matter). In ancient Egypt, where razors manufactured from copper appeared around 3,000 BCE men removed their beards, and then some, usually those of noble birth, replaced them with fake ones, a symbol of their divine nature. The Ancient Romans encountered bearded enemies and responded by shaving their own faces, citing superior cleanliness as one reason. Beards harbored lice. Vermin infested enemies were obviously inferior in Roman thought.
The Church influenced shaving as well as cleanliness
The saints of the early Church, as well as those of the modern, were almost always depicted as being bearded. Even Jesus of Nazareth was depicted as wearing a beard, though usually well-trimmed and shaped. By the 16th century, most priests of the Church were shaven. Full beards became stereotypes of Jews, as well as Muslims and Protestants. Beards were considered unclean, as they provided comfortable homes for fleas and lice. The art of shaving oneself became more widely practiced with the availability of razors, as well as the looking-glass. The well-to-do did not shave themselves. They had trusted servants or barbers shave them. A clean-shaven appearance thus reflected a certain affluence, since it indicated a man who could afford to be well-served. The removal of the beard was a highly visible sign of wealth. Women’s shaving was less-visible, though many did.
Women too removed unwanted body hair, and some used razors, including those copper razors developed in Ancient Egypt, adopted by the Greeks and the Romans. The trimming of eyebrows (usually plucked) was common in the Ancient World. So was the removal of unwanted hair from other regions, and the use of various means besides sharpened metal became favored for more tender areas of the body. Techniques similar to modern waxing gained favor. The sap of various trees was applied, allowed to dry, and then removed, in what surely must have been an uncomfortable evolution. Queen Elizabeth’s lack of hair, a result of illness, made high foreheads a symbol of fashion in her realms, and women preferred plucking to shaving. The latter left a stubble, the former a smooth, clean scalp enhancing their feminine appeal.
In a world where daily cleansing of the body was uncommon, and even looked at with suspicion, it should come as no surprise most people were negligent regarding cleaning of the teeth and gums. As a result, dental problems prevailed. Ancient Sumerian texts contain references to dental problems, including toothaches and loss of teeth. They believed the teeth were under continuous assault by “tooth worms”. Combatting said worms was a source of concern. While that does not present the modern imagination with an attractive mental image to ponder, it does indicate that concern over the condition of the mouth was present in ancient times. Little was done in the matter of protecting the teeth, other than by fortuitous accident. For example, forensic evidence indicates some Ancient Roman citizens had healthier teeth than most of their contemporaries around the empire.
Examination of preserved corpses from the ruins of Pompeii confirms the Romans, despite lacking even the most basic implements for the care of teeth, had remarkably little tooth decay. Modern science attributes this phenomenon to the lack of refined sugar in the Roman diet. Pompeiians may have had relatively healthy teeth, though it cannot be attributed to an adherence to dental hygiene. Dental hygiene in the ancient world was universally poor, nearly non-existent, though the art of dentistry, that is, extraction and even filling of decayed teeth, developed in several cultures. So did numbing of the affected region among those suffering from toothache. The Aztecs alleviated toothache pain by chewing on coca leaves. Centuries later pharmaceutical cocaine was an accepted analgesic used by dentists on their patients.
Hygiene in general improved throughout the 17th century
During the 1600s personal hygiene improved, as medicine and living conditions gained ground against the superstition and squalor of preceding generations. Amongst the poor and less well-educated classes, bathing remained an activity regarded with suspicion. So did changing into clean clothes, often because no other clothes were available into which to change. The poor of the 17th century did not maintain diverse wardrobes. Typically, all that was changed was what were called “smallclothes”, today more commonly referred to as underwear. Laundry, like bathing, was an activity consigned to one day of the week, often the day preceding the Sabbath. Labor was proscribed on the Sabbath, but watching one’s wardrobe dry on an outside line, or before the fire, was not considered labor. Nor was it considered entertainment, also proscribed, though it was about the closest thing to it in some areas.
The wealthy began to consider bathing with more favor, and relaxing in one’s bath, often while playing chess or at cards, was a pastime of the affluent. There were those who opposed bathing; that their position was considered eccentric is attested by the fact they are still remembered for it. Bathing, shaving, donning clean clothes, and making an attempt to suppress, however temporarily, the parasites seeking refuge on one’s body became a ritual. So did the practice of donning various scents, and both men and women attempted to cover failings of the complexion with powders and pastes, many liberally laced with toxic metals including lead and mercury. Men with short hair concealed it under elaborate powdered wigs. Men with longer hair powdered theirs as well, at least when engaged on social functions. Males and females carried perfumed handkerchiefs, to protect dainty sensibilities from the aroma of the great unwashed.
It has long been said that a dog is man’s best friend (while diamonds are awarded that status for women). Upon further consideration, perhaps that role more fittingly belongs to the pig. First of all, he is almost entirely edible for those not prohibited by religious or moral scruples. Those parts not suitable for consumption have proven useful as well. His bristles provided brushes, including toothbrushes, pigskin provided (and provides) fine leather, and other parts of the animal were used for soap and candle tallow. For centuries, pigs provided a service to mankind in the control of waste, in communities large and small. Pigs ate waste, from household kitchen garbage to the offal found on city streets. Well into the 19th century, pigs roamed freely in many cities, their existence tolerated because they helped keep the streets clean.
Although packaging materials didn’t begin to clog waste disposal systems until the 20th century, organic waste did. Cities were populated with nearly as many horses and mules as humans, or so it seemed, and they produced an immense amount of dung. So did cattle and sheep driven to market, and so did humans as they went about their daily affairs. Even privy pits needed to be emptied somewhere, at least those that did not flood in heavy rains, allowing their contents to overflow into streets. Pigs dealt with the waste. A pig could (and did) roam the streets of town before being converted into soap, brushes, work gloves, and candles to scrub by. Months later he could still be providing service in the form of smoked ham, prepared by a butcher wearing a pigskin apron. Afterwards, a diner could use a pig bristle toothbrush to clean his teeth.
Women who didn’t address underarm hair became, by default, poorly groomed
Of course, the presence of body hair, regardless of where it was present on the body, was in and of itself no reflection of the level of personal hygiene practiced by an individual. But advertising created the image that it was, and that it was indicative of indifference. The implication was that a woman who did not remove “unwanted” hair was likely to exhibit the same attitude in relation to washing. According to the advertisers, a woman looked better, felt better, her clothes were more flattering, and she appeared healthier without visible body hair. Most manufacturers of depilatory products aimed at women focused their efforts on the upper class, certain that those of lower classes would be sure to emulate them. The main focus continued to be on lotions and powders which served as depilatories.
Shaving remained a male activity until around 1910. It was around that time that the hemlines on skirts began to move upwards. As they gradually rose, they exposed ankles, then lower calves, and occasionally knees were glimpsed. As more leg was exposed (advertisers called them limbs; the mention of a woman’s legs was vulgar) so was more body hair, equally as unsightly as when exposed in underarms. And as unhygienic. In 1915, eager to support American womanhood in their desire to achieve superior hygiene, Gillette introduced the first safety razor designed for women. It was called Milady Dècolletè, and Gillette conveniently engineered it so that it accepted the same blades as intended for safety razors for men. Just a few years later, the age of the flapper, dancing the Charleston, ever shorter skirts, and the rise of film stars dawned. As far as hygiene was concerned, American women were ready.
World War II changed hygiene practices around the globe
When World War II began, more British homes had outdoor privies than inside toilets. In America, the outhouse was a common sight in rural and poorer areas. Hotel rooms with private baths typically cost extra. Daily bathing, except among the wealthy, was still relatively rare. Except for the wealthy, men didn’t bathe every day, didn’t shave every day, didn’t change their clothes every day, not even when they typically wore a suit and tie to work. Then came the war. For millions of men around the globe, military days, at least during training, began with a shower and shave, clean pressed uniforms, well-scrubbed hands and faces scrutinized by sergeants eager to find a speck of grime which would render the unfortunate presenter “filthy”. Bathrooms and showers (latrines in the army, heads in the navy) were scrubbed and scrubbed again.
Even in the field, men were required to maintain levels of cleanliness, and the military went to great lengths to ensure the means were available. Lectures and films on personal hygiene and the means to attain it began in boot camp and continued throughout one’s service. Following discharge many veterans found the practices too ingrained to shake. They also found the women in their lives had been through similar indoctrination working in war industries or when maintaining the home. The role of personal hygiene and good health had been a focus during the war, and not only in the United States and the British Empire. German industry introduced new types of soap during the war, and German propaganda stressed the need to maintain levels of personal hygiene unheard of a century earlier. By 1940, cleanliness had truly become next to godliness.
In recent times a number of shocks, floods, hurricanes, blizzards, pandemics, and the like, has led to shortages of one of the modern age’s seemingly most critical commodities, toilet paper. Fear of running out of the material has led to shortages caused by hoarding, as if there were no alternatives to the reassuring presence of extra rolls on hand, as it were, and lots of them. It gives one pause to wonder, what was used before toilet paper first made its reassuring appearance? Of course, stories of Sears catalogs and corn cobs are well known, as are those of newspapers, pages from books, and old rags. But what about before then. Only three centuries ago, paper was both expensive and scarce, books were relatively rare. There were several methods of attending to a still unpleasant task of basic hygiene, most of them somewhat unpleasant to contemplate.
The Ancient Romans supplied public toilets with buckets of salt water and sponges. Since the toilets were public, the sponges were as well, and wringing out a used sponge in used salt water seems, shall we say, repulsive? Yet it had to be done. An alternative used by the Romans, as well as the Greeks, was a piece of ceramic, kept by the person, cleansed in salt water or vinegar, and often inscribed with the name of a person held in low regard by the owner of the ceramic. They were known as pessoi. Somehow, the idea of carrying around a device for the cleansing of one’s rear, using it, and then continuing to carry it, like a compact or a watch, does not appeal. Plus, it certainly did not offer the comfort lauded by modern manufacturers of toilet paper in praise of their products.
The hygiene of Polynesia affected European society
When European ships explored the islands of the Pacific in the 18th century, their reports had a profound impact on European society. The reports of sea captains, Cook and Bougainville, Wallis and Bligh, described peoples living as one with nature, savages by European definitions of the day, yet with a defined society and culture. In some circles they reflected the radical propositions of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and man living in a state of nature as “noble savages”, the natural state of the human race. Among the behaviors Europeans found surprising, as well as titillating, were the Polynesians ignoring the customs of covering their bodies with clothing, and their daily bathing. Cook and others described the Polynesians bathing, not only by immersions in water, but by scrubbing themselves with vegetation which formed lathers, perfuming themselves with oils, and ritual washing before dining.
Upper society considered such attention to grooming as another sign of the savage nature of the natives, indications of the deadly sins of pride and envy. Observing the natives admiring their own images in reflective pools, the Europeans made cheap looking-glasses a major trade item, highly appreciated by the Polynesians. To European society they became symbolic of the childish vanity of the “savages”, as was the time and effort expended in the daily cleansing of the body. In short order, contact with the Europeans brought diseases, chiefly measles, to the Pacific archipelagoes against which there was no natural immunity. The diseases ravaged Polynesian populations, while missionaries condemned the sin of wasting time better spent in humble prayer than on ablutions and self-decoration. To them, excessive cleanliness contributed to the less restricted sexual behaviors practiced by the islanders; behaviors which made the islands legendary among the sailors who visited them.
Personal hygiene historically affected relationships among peers
Among the Europeans beginning in the medieval period, and continuing well into the 18th century, it was widely believed that undergarments, usually made of either linen or wool, served to cleanse the body of the wearer. The impurities transferred to the undergarments during the day were transferred in turn to the bedding during the night. Airing the bedding sent them on their way. Sleeping fully clothed prevented this transfer of grime, and was thus considered as immoral as sleeping clothed in nothing at all. Gradually nightshirts came to be considered the proper dress for bed, though they were typically worn over the undergarments worn during the day. Benjamin Franklin scandalized John Adams when he first took an air bath, sitting naked before an open window, before donning his nightshirt alone and retiring to bed. Franklin came to consider his “air-baths” essential to his good health.
Because the undergarments were not washed with frequency they quickly became discolored. Those areas which showed, especially around the neck, were available for public viewing, and therefore public judgments. Rather than changing the underwear, or washing it more frequently, a means to hide the neck area evolved. The neckcloth, often decorated with a lacy front descending from throat to chest, covered the less than presentable state of the undershirt’s collar. Much later, the detachable collar, at first made of starched linen and later of celluloid, served a similar purpose. Gentlemen presented their “linen”, as the visible portion of the neckcloth came to be called, as decorative and a sign of cleanliness, no matter how grimy was the collar the neckcloth served to obscure. When viewing the Founding Fathers in their finery, it is interesting to reflect that each is concealing an unpresentable, grime-streaked collar under all that lace.
Where do we find this stuff? Here are our sources:
“King James Bible”. Various books and verses cited in text. Online
“Baths and Bathing Culture in the Mideast: The Hammam”. Elizabeth Williams, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. October, 2012. Online
“Did people in the Middle Ages take baths?” Article, Medievalists.net. Online
“The 1647 Westminster Confession and Subordinate Documents”. Article, the Westminster Standards. Online
“Cherokees in Transition: A Study of Changing Culture and Environment Prior to 1775”. Gary C. Goodwin. 1977
“Medieval Monastery”. Article, Mark Cartwright. Worldhistory.org. December 14, 2018
“Everyday Life in the Middle Ages”. Suzanne Comte. 1988
“A history of humanities disgusting hygiene”. Helen Murphy Howell, Owlcation. August 5, 2022. Online
“Of lice, and men: An itchy history”. Emily Willingham, Scientific American. February 14, 2011
“Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior”. George Washington. Circa 1747. Online
“Would simple signs in your bathroom increase handwashing?” Article, The McMorrow Reports. Online
“Groom of the Stool”. Ben Johnson, Historic UK. Online
“Life as sea in the age of sail”. Article, Royal Museums Greenwich. Online
“How Our Ancestors Did It: Shaving Through History”. Fendrihan, February 12, 2016. Online
“Soaps and Detergents History”. Article, Cleaning Institute. Online
“The Wars Over Christian Beards”. Ted Olsen, Christianity Today. August 28, 2013
“Washing in the Ancient World”. Tim Lambert, A History of Washing. Online
“The hogs that created America’s first urban working class”. Gwynn Guilford, Quartz. July 16, 2017
“Overlooked and undervalued: Underwear in the Middle Ages”. Madeleine Colvin, Medievalists.net. Online
“Showering daily – is it necessary?” Robert H. Shmerling MD, Harvard Health Publishing. August 16, 2021. Online