
‘I am a loo historian – you'll never guess what Tudors used to wipe their bums'
Poo now travels under London in a sewer tunnel so wide, you could drive three buses side-by-side through it. But before this new super sewer opened this year, Londoners were still flushing their waste down 1,300 miles of a creaking brick-built Victorian sewage system, with ornate cathedral-sized pumping stations.
However, when the Public Health Act of 1875, received Royal assent 150 years ago, in August 1875, the drainage system built by civil engineer Sir Joseph Bazalgette in the city was the super sewer of its time.
It was built after the horror of The Great Stink of 1858, when the River Thames became so polluted with raw excrement, that during one long hot summer, the water levels dropped, and the malodorous smell was so noxious, it shut the Houses of Parliament.
Nght soil workers, or gong farmers carted away the city's filth from 200,000 festering cesspits and outdoor privies, to be used as fertiliser. 'There was no integrated sewerage network system, so all the dung heaps had to be dug out by gong men,' explains Dr Dave Musgrove, content director of BBC History Magazine and the HistoryExtra podcast.
'It was an unpleasant job but reasonably well-paid, because the excrement was valuable. If you weren't rich, you had your pit, you dug it out, and it was taken away in carts and used for manuring fields.'
The 17th century diarist Samuel Pepys wrote extensively about his chamber pot and whether it had been emptied into the cesspit beneath the house by his servant. 'He also used to relieve himself in the fireplace,' says Dr Musgrove. 'But he tells a story where he goes down into his basement and is very disappointed to step into a great heap of turds, because his neighbour hasn't emptied his pit and it's leaked into his.'
A 19th century population explosion meant the night soil men couldn't keep up with the volume of fecal matter, and piles of untreated human waste either leaked or were dumped on the shores of the Thames, turning it into an open sewer. Along with human corpses and rotting vegetation in the waterways, this was a toxic disaster waiting to happen.
'By the early 19th century, more people were wanting to use this up-and-coming toilet flushing technology. But it meant the city had lots more liquid matter,' explains the historian. 'So they start digging sewers, digging underground or even just overground ones, and it's going into rivers and the water system is becoming contaminated.' Before 1875, people had no idea that dirty water caused the deadly cholera epidemics that raged in the country's crowded cities.
Dr Dave Musgrove, who also hosts HistoryExtra Toilets Through Time podcast series, says: 'Throughout this period we get a slew of public health legislation, where people start to recognise that it is an issue.' Frightened city dwellers blamed the thousands of deaths on the foul miasma that hung heavy over London and other cities. In 1853 outbreaks of cholera in London, Gateshead and Newcastle killed over 10,000 people. The following year another epidemic hit South London
After one particularly virulent outbreak on August 31, 1854, when 127 people living around Broad Street in Soho died, a local anaesthetist, John Snow, suspected contaminated water was to blame, but nobody believed him. He traced it to a water pump on Broad Street, where a child had been taken ill with cholera and its nappies had been cleaned in a cesspool of water close to the Broad Street well.
The local parish agreed to remove the pump handle as an experiment – and the spread of cholera was stalled. From then on, new sanitary laws made it compulsory for local authorities to provide sewers, control water supplies and regulate the overcrowded and unsanitary lodging houses in rookeries where most poor people lived in Victorian times.
Most importantly, all residential construction had to have running water and an internal drainage system. But flushing toilets took ages to catch on in Britain. 'The person who is often cited as having invented the first one was the godson of Queen Elizabeth I, Thomas Harrington, who came up with what he called the 'Ajax' on a lad's weekend in the 15th century.' Although the Queen had one installed, nobody thought his idea would catch on.
The ruined Grade I listed Wingfield Manor in Derbyshire is also home to a flushing toilet built in 1596. And it's thought Henry III's 13th century garderobe in York's Clifford's Tower had a flushing spout that ran water down the lavatory hole and out of the tower.
But while we were still going alfresco in philistine Britain, the world 's first flushing loos were actually invented in Bronze Age Crete. 'The Minoan Palace of Knossos had a very advanced plumbing system that was built around 2000 BC,' says Dr Musgrove.
Cesspits are gold dust to archaeologists, as they reveal so much about the people who used them. 'The people who built the Neolithic site of Stonehenge lived in a village a couple of miles away called Durrington Walls in a settlement of round houses,' Dr Musgrove continues. 'Human poo was excavated, which was riddled with parasites – possibly from eating meat that hadn't been cooked well – but there was no particular designated toilet area.'
That changed with the Roman invasion. You can still visit the well preserved Roman communal loos at Chedworth Roman Villa in Gloucestershire or Housesteads Roman fort at Hadrian's Wall ,where soldiers sat chatting side-by-side at the communal latrines while rainwater flushed away their waste.
After the Romans leave things go downhill. 'In the early medieval period British society sort of fractures, but excavations in Coppergate in York in the 1980s found evidence of Viking toilets – and the famous Jorvik turd.'
The Vikings lived in tightly packed areas, and had yards where people just dug holes and did their business, with little wicker dividing walls. Dr Musgrove adds: 'You can see the mineralised coprolite Viking 9th century poo at the museum, where they've recreated those toilets with Bogar who's been sitting on this loo for 40 years.'
The Jorvik turd also tells us a lot about the Viking diet. 'It's quite a big poo – 5cm wide by 20cm long,' chuckles Dr Musgrove. 'Whoever produced it enjoyed a diet rich in bread and meat but not many vegetables.'
In the Middle Ages toilets were holes in the ground in communal spaces over a river or a stream. 'They were basically doing their business into the water,' says the historian. 'But there weren't concentrations of people living in one place, so sewage wasn't much of an issue.'
Community toilets continued in the Tudor period when Henry VIII built a two-story loo for courtiers at Hampton Court called the House of Easement, which held 28 people at once. 'There were private toilets for important people in castles,' adds Dr Musgrove. 'But those were still quite basic spaces in the wall and human waste would drop down a pipe into a cesspit – or just drip down the outside of the walls.'
We've come a long way since those smelly days, but before we congratulate ourselves on having super sewers, transporting our effluent safely away from our homes, it's important to scotch the myth of our ancestors chucking urine-filled chamber pots out of over-hanging medieval windows onto people's heads on the cobbles below.
'Even hundreds of years before the 1875 act, communities did their level best to separate themselves from their faeces,' says Dr Musgrove. 'There were many by-laws to stop us fouling our own spaces even in the Middle Ages, so we shouldn't imagine the streets of Britain's cities were just covered in filth all the time.'
Something our leaky water utility companies could no doubt learn from even now.
The back story on loo paper
Anyone unlucky enough to have used Izal tracing paper loo paper at school will appreciate how important a nice soft double ply is.
The first loo paper appeared in 1887 when Joseph C. Gayetty of New York sold medicated flat sheets called The Therapeutic Paper, and the first perforated rolls were sold in 1890 by the Scott Paper Company. But it took a long time for these to become popular because most people were accustomed to using any old paper.
'Once we started printing stuff from the 15th century onwards, people quite quickly started using it for the purposes of wiping – and sometimes as a political gesture,' explains Dr Musgrove. 'If there was something you disagreed with, you might offer that to people to wipe their bottom.'
Before that, the early Romans loved a communal khazi and it's thought they also shared a communal sponge. But Dr Musgrove admits: 'We don't actually know whether the sponge on a stick was used for wiping Roman bottoms – or for cleaning the toilets.'
Moss was very popular in the Middle Ages for bum wiping. 'There was a thriving trade in bringing moss into medieval towns because it was a valuable product – nice and soft on your backside. Archaeologists have also found evidence of rags in toilet soil.'
But the hardcore Tudors used 'oyster and mussel shells – more for scraping than wiping,' according to Dr Musgrove. Alarmingly, holly has also been found in some cesspits. 'That would have made the user quite anxious,' the historian says.
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They have over 60 volunteers who man the entrance kiosk 365 days a year to provide a warm welcome to visitors and who work in the FBGP kiosk gift shop, which supports local artists and where all profits go towards supporting the future of the pier. Sign up for the North Wales Live newsletter sent twice daily to your inbox Find out what's happening near you


North Wales Live
8 hours ago
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Appeal launched to repair historic North Wales pier
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The Herald Scotland
a day ago
- The Herald Scotland
Thought of what happened to my gran in a Magdalene Laundry haunts me
Look to the right of the picture, however, and you see that she's cut somebody out. There's a black void where she's taken scissors and excised whoever is standing beside her. All that remains of that person is their hand. It looks like a man's hand. It's holding my grandmother by the wrist. There's a sense of possession about that grip, as if whoever it is believes they own my grandmother. Is it a priest? One of the nuns who tormented her? She'll never be able to tell me now. My grandmother had three wishes: to live to 100; to see me become the first in our family to go to university - starved of formal education she loved books and learning - and finally that she'd one day hold my first child in her arms, her first grandchild. Only one wish came true. She lived to see me graduate, and frail - so frail - she even made it to the ceremony. But she missed her 100th birthday, though just by a few years; and she missed the birth of her first grandchild, by just a few damned months. That child carries her name. I hope if my daughter has a baby girl of her own she'll one day hand that name on, so something of Suzanne never dies. I loved my grandmother fiercely. She was my rock to cling to amid the storms and stupidity of my parent's failing marriage. While they tore themselves to pieces, my grandmother built a world of safety for me. She loved me unconditionally. What a life she lived. She held me rapt for hours in tales of her adventures. Her life was tough but she lived it on her own terms. The woman was titanium-built. She was born into hard times: the rural poverty of Ireland, as the Victorian era gave way to the new 20th century. Both her parents died before she was five. Orphaned, she was taken in by her grandmother, a sadist who beat and humiliated the child with ruthless regularity. Suzie, as those who loved her called her, was a natural rebel. She would, I believe, sooner have died than yield. Whilst my granny told me everything about her life, there is, however, one part which she always skirted: her years in the Magdalene Laundries, run by the Catholic Church. Every time these hellish places return to the news, I wonder what happened to my granny inside their walls. What was done to her? Currently, in Tuam, near Galway, a mass unmarked grave for hundreds of children is being excavated where a Magdalene Laundry once stood. These were places where 'bad girls' and 'fallen women' were sent. Over the years - until these cursed institutions were finally abolished - an estimated 170,000 women and children went through their doors. My gran was one. She was 'sent to the convent', as she called it, aged around 14. All Suzie would say was that she'd refused to submit to her grandmother's bullying, and was banished to the Magdalene Laundries. They were called laundries as the young women had to work washing clothes. Physical, sexual and emotional abuse were the norm. I don't know precisely why my gran was sent away. Many of the girls shut up in these evil places were pregnant, but others were just rebellious - perhaps they had boyfriends (my gran always had an eye for a handsome fella), perhaps they'd got drunk or stayed out late. Girls didn't have to commit a grave sin in Ireland back then to suffer the wrath of family and church. She was incarcerated for about two years. When she emerged, she was changed. She'd lose her faith in the Catholic Church. Her rebellious streak had grown a mile wide. She wasn't the kind of woman who could - literally or metaphorically - be whipped into shape by anyone. Within a year or so of leaving the Magdalene laundries, my grandmother had joined what some called 'the old IRA', and was fighting in the War of Independence, the conflict which raged between 1919 and 1921 and would lead to the creation of the Irish Republic and Northern Ireland. She talked little of this period either, understandably. I was raised in Northern Ireland during the Troubles and anyone who boasted about fighting to free Ireland in their youth - even a pensioner - would have placed a target on their own back. Read more by Neil Mackay This I do know, though, she was some kind of scout and messenger, carrying intelligence around the country. Perhaps that makes her an 'intelligence officer', as some in my family have called her, but I think that may be too grand. After the War of Independence, she went on the run, hiding out in India until she returned home in the late 1920s. Jobless, she moved to England to work as a servant. The irony wasn't lost on her: slaving for the very people she'd fought. Suzie married a Cockney in the Royal Navy, and she mellowed. She even came to love England, and became one of the first women firefighters saving London during the Blitz. But like all Irish folk, she eventually returned home. After the death of her beloved husband Pat - my grandfather was actually called Henry but pals nicknamed him Pat due to his Irish wife - she moved back. I was born around the same time. Today, I'm writing a novel inspired by my grandmother's life. It will be my fourth book, and I know it's the work I'll most care about this side of the grave. Suzie told me so much about her life, but those years in the Magdalene Laundry remain mostly blank. Whenever I hear about these places, I pull out that old picture of her, taken around 1918, and I give her a wink and tell her I love her. (Image: Contributed) My imagination haunts me when I start thinking about what might have happened to this woman I loved so much in one of those terrible places. I've researched much of her life as part of my preparation for this novel, but I've never been brave enough to dare find out more about her time in the Magdalene Laundries. I've now started that work. It's only at the age of 55 that I really have the courage and character to face up to what might have been done to her. Whatever I find, I'll memorialise it for Suzie. I'll let her have her say all these years after her death. What I want most of all is to discover the original of that photograph, and to find out who was standing beside her. If they hurt my granny, I'll make sure the world knows their name. ===== Neil Mackay is the Herald's Writer-at-Large. He's a multi-award winning investigative journalist, author of both fiction and non-fiction, and a filmmaker and broadcaster. He specialises in intelligence, security, crime, social affairs, cultural commentary, and foreign and domestic politics