The creation of such atmospheres might also be managed in homes, gaols and hospitals through the use of fumigations. This was the earliest role in which perfumers could be found: Henry VII paid a ‘maker of fumycacions’ in 1498, while in 1564 Elizabeth I’s bed chamber was fumigated with orris powder burnt in a perfuming pan. By the 17th century, as perfumers themselves expanded into the production of a wider range of scented cosmetics, recipes for fumigations could be found in household manuscript collections. A late 17th-century manuscript recipe for ‘A perfume to burn’ went as follows: Take 2 ounces of the powder of juniper, benjamine, and storax each 1 ounce, 6 drops of oyle of cloves, 10 grains of musk, beat all these together to a past with a little gum dragon, steeped in rose or orange flower water, and roul them up like big pease and flat them and dry them in a dish in the oven or sun and keep them for use they must be put on a shovel of coals and they will give a pleasing smell. Fumigations, ranging from the use of perfumes to hot vinegar, were used well into the 19th century despite the increasing trend towards the use of ventilation. Even in the 20th and 21st centuries practices of ‘airing’ and ‘cleanliness’ continue to smell. As anyone who has experienced the distinct hospital odour of carbolic soap will know, methods of disinfection and ‘deodorisation’ often leave their own unmistakable odours.
YET, WHILE SOME forms of fumigation survived across the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries, other changes were afoot in the types of perfumery consumed. Recipes for pomander and perfumed gloves become less common. A second prominent recipe book, Simon Barbe’s The French Perfumer, which went through three editions between 1696 and 1700, illustrates this shift. Barbe’s text, deriving from his work as perfumer to Louis XIV, was popular among the perfumers of early 18th-century London. While a small number of recipes for pomanders and burnt perfumes make an appearance, more of the text is taken up with powders, waters and essences. Charles Lillie, a perfumer on the Strand in the first half of the 18th century, bemoaned the popularity of Barbe’s text and referred to it as a ‘silly little book’, whose author was ‘so unfortunately ignorant, as not to know even the names, much less the composition, of the articles he undertook to write about’. Lillie himself, whose products were mentioned in the Tatler and the Spectator, had written a manuscript recipe book intended for publication. The original is now missing but an edited version found its way into print in 1822, long after Lillie’s death in 1746. While containing only a single recipe for perfumed gloves, from which the formerly popular civet was absent, Lillie’s text contained a panoplyof scented powders, pomatums and waters, including the ever-popular lavender water and Hungary water. By the mid-18th century perfumed gloves were increasingly advertised for their ability to soften and scent the hands, rather than to emit a heavy perfume into the space around the body. These were superseded in part by powders, pomatums and pastes but more particularly by a massive growth in the popularity and availability of scented essences and waters. These usually had French-sounding names, such as eau sans parille, eau de bouquet and eau de cologne, the last of which was becoming increasingly popular in Britain by the end of the 18th century. Scented waters and mixtures of perfumed essences and smelling salts, such as eau de luce, could be held in smelling bottles to be sni¬ed at when needed or dropped on to handkerchiefs. While pomanders leaked and created atmosphere, smelling bottles, in cheaper glass or more expensive porcelain varieties, emphasised a more inward-looking, contained, engagement with smell.
ASLIQUID PERFUMERY became increasingly popular, the definition of perfume loosened from its material moorings. In dictionaries of the 16th and 17th centuries perfume was most often defined by its materiality: per fume in Latin literally being to scent by smoking. By the later 18th century this definition was increasingly replaced by a simpler, more emotionally inflected one: perfume was simply a scent that was ‘agreeable’ to the sense of smelling. This more a¬ective and inward-looking engagement with scent was the sensory equivalent of the emergence of new ideas of sel¬ood and interiority during the 18th century. The new importance of ‘agreeability’ in defining perfume did not, as some historians have suggested, remove perfume from the pharmacy and relegate it to the cosmetics counter. Into the 19th century perfume was tightly intermeshed with the concepts and practices of medicine. While the pomanders and fumigations of the 16th and 17th centuries might rectify the atmosphere and prevent the inflow of foul air into the body, the smelling bottles of the 18th century contained scented waters, essences and salts to revive and energise the spirits. The significant overlaps of perfumery with medicine meant that the selling and making of scented materials was itself contested ground. The historian Holly Dugan has described the competition between the London College of Physicians, the apothecaries and the grocers’ guild in the 17th century over the right to sell and use the strongly scented ingredients common to all. Attempts to stamp out abuses and incriminate the opposition resulted in bonfires of ‘faulty’ aromatics outside the doors of their purveyor’s shops. During the 16th century perfumers began to emerge within London, first in the East End among the immigrants and women excluded from the guilds and, by the 17th century, in the West End among the blooming collection of luxury trades. This association of perfumery with the West End would continue into the 18th century. John Gay reflected in his topographical poem Trivia, or the Art of Walking the Streets of London (1716): O bear me to the Paths of fair Pell-mell, Safe are thy Pavements, grateful is thy Smell.
Shops breathe Perfume, thro Sashes Ribbons glow, The mutual Arms of Ladies, and the Beau. While many more individuals calling themselves ‘perfumers’ had emerged during the late 16th and 17th centuries, apothecaries continued to deal in many items of ‘perfumery’. In turn, the trade cards of 18th-century perfumers listed large numbers of proprietary medicines, such as Da¬y’s Elixir, Dr Hooper’s Pills and Fryar’s Balsam, the ostensibly wondrous e¬ects of which often attracted charges of quackery. Many items of perfumery, especially the expanding and popular range of scented waters, could also be described as medicines. Under a 1785 Act of Parliament stamp duties had to be paid on licences to sell medicine and on many of the medicines themselves. A similar Act in 1786 extended stamp duties to ‘Sweet Scents, Odors, Perfumes, and Cosmetics’. However the blurred line between perfume and medicine encouraged dirty tricks by informers. In Cambridge in March 1788 one informer was busy buying small quantities of essence of lemon from apothecaries and then informing against them as perfumers without licenses. The enraged populace forced him to be escorted to the local tavern (ironically named The Rose), where he was held prisoner at the behest of the mob. Only after the Riot Act was read was the informer able to escape. The attempts of the state to tax perfumery showed just how blurred the line between luxury and medicine, pleasure and health, continued to be.
การสร้างบรรยากาศดังกล่าวอาจจัดการในบ้าน gaols และโรงพยาบาลโดยใช้ fumigations นี่คือบทบาทแรกสุดอาจพบ perfumers: Henry VII จ่าย 'maker ของ fumycacions' เบง ในขณะที่ใน 1564 เอลิซาเบธ I ของเตียงหอการค้าผ่านรม orris ผงเผาใน perfuming pan โดยศตวรรษที่ 17 เป็น perfumers ตัวเองขยายเข้าไปในการผลิตช่วงกว้างของเครื่องสำอางหอม สูตรสำหรับ fumigations พบในคอลเลกชันฉบับครัวเรือน ปลายศตวรรษที่ 17 ฉบับสูตรสำหรับ 'หอมเขียน' ไปเป็นดังนี้: ใช้ 2 ออนซ์ผงของจูนิเปอร์ benjamine และ storax ละ 1 ออนซ์ 6 หยด oyle กลีบ ธัญพืช 10 ของกวางชะมด ชนะเหล่านี้ทั้งหมดร่วมกันกับอดีตกับมังกรเหงือกน้อย ดองน้ำดอกไม้กุหลาบ หรือสีส้ม และ roul แฟ้มชอบ pease ใหญ่แบนออก และแห้งในอาหารในเตาอบหรืออาบแดด และเก็บไว้ สำหรับการใช้งาน ต้องถูกย้ายบนจอบของถ่านหิน และพวกเขาจะชื่นชอบกลิ่น Fumigations ไปจนถึงการใช้น้ำหอมเพื่ออุ่นน้ำส้มสายชู ถูกใช้ในศตวรรษที่ 19 แม้ว่าจะมีแนวโน้มเพิ่มขึ้นต่อการใช้การระบายอากาศดี แม้แต่ในศตวรรษ 20 และ 21 ปฏิบัติ 'อีกรายการที่ออกอากาศ' และ 'ความสะอาด' ต่อไป เป็นคนที่มีประสบการณ์กลิ่นโรงพยาบาลหมดสบู่ carbolic จะ รู้ วิธีการฆ่าเชื้อ และ 'deodorisation' มักจะออก odours ตนแน่แท้YET, WHILE SOME forms of fumigation survived across the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries, other changes were afoot in the types of perfumery consumed. Recipes for pomander and perfumed gloves become less common. A second prominent recipe book, Simon Barbe’s The French Perfumer, which went through three editions between 1696 and 1700, illustrates this shift. Barbe’s text, deriving from his work as perfumer to Louis XIV, was popular among the perfumers of early 18th-century London. While a small number of recipes for pomanders and burnt perfumes make an appearance, more of the text is taken up with powders, waters and essences. Charles Lillie, a perfumer on the Strand in the first half of the 18th century, bemoaned the popularity of Barbe’s text and referred to it as a ‘silly little book’, whose author was ‘so unfortunately ignorant, as not to know even the names, much less the composition, of the articles he undertook to write about’. Lillie himself, whose products were mentioned in the Tatler and the Spectator, had written a manuscript recipe book intended for publication. The original is now missing but an edited version found its way into print in 1822, long after Lillie’s death in 1746. While containing only a single recipe for perfumed gloves, from which the formerly popular civet was absent, Lillie’s text contained a panoplyof scented powders, pomatums and waters, including the ever-popular lavender water and Hungary water. By the mid-18th century perfumed gloves were increasingly advertised for their ability to soften and scent the hands, rather than to emit a heavy perfume into the space around the body. These were superseded in part by powders, pomatums and pastes but more particularly by a massive growth in the popularity and availability of scented essences and waters. These usually had French-sounding names, such as eau sans parille, eau de bouquet and eau de cologne, the last of which was becoming increasingly popular in Britain by the end of the 18th century. Scented waters and mixtures of perfumed essences and smelling salts, such as eau de luce, could be held in smelling bottles to be sni¬ed at when needed or dropped on to handkerchiefs. While pomanders leaked and created atmosphere, smelling bottles, in cheaper glass or more expensive porcelain varieties, emphasised a more inward-looking, contained, engagement with smell.ASLIQUID PERFUMERY became increasingly popular, the definition of perfume loosened from its material moorings. In dictionaries of the 16th and 17th centuries perfume was most often defined by its materiality: per fume in Latin literally being to scent by smoking. By the later 18th century this definition was increasingly replaced by a simpler, more emotionally inflected one: perfume was simply a scent that was ‘agreeable’ to the sense of smelling. This more a¬ective and inward-looking engagement with scent was the sensory equivalent of the emergence of new ideas of sel¬ood and interiority during the 18th century. The new importance of ‘agreeability’ in defining perfume did not, as some historians have suggested, remove perfume from the pharmacy and relegate it to the cosmetics counter. Into the 19th century perfume was tightly intermeshed with the concepts and practices of medicine. While the pomanders and fumigations of the 16th and 17th centuries might rectify the atmosphere and prevent the inflow of foul air into the body, the smelling bottles of the 18th century contained scented waters, essences and salts to revive and energise the spirits. The significant overlaps of perfumery with medicine meant that the selling and making of scented materials was itself contested ground. The historian Holly Dugan has described the competition between the London College of Physicians, the apothecaries and the grocers’ guild in the 17th century over the right to sell and use the strongly scented ingredients common to all. Attempts to stamp out abuses and incriminate the opposition resulted in bonfires of ‘faulty’ aromatics outside the doors of their purveyor’s shops. During the 16th century perfumers began to emerge within London, first in the East End among the immigrants and women excluded from the guilds and, by the 17th century, in the West End among the blooming collection of luxury trades. This association of perfumery with the West End would continue into the 18th century. John Gay reflected in his topographical poem Trivia, or the Art of Walking the Streets of London (1716): O bear me to the Paths of fair Pell-mell, Safe are thy Pavements, grateful is thy Smell.Shops breathe Perfume, thro Sashes Ribbons glow, The mutual Arms of Ladies, and the Beau. While many more individuals calling themselves ‘perfumers’ had emerged during the late 16th and 17th centuries, apothecaries continued to deal in many items of ‘perfumery’. In turn, the trade cards of 18th-century perfumers listed large numbers of proprietary medicines, such as Da¬y’s Elixir, Dr Hooper’s Pills and Fryar’s Balsam, the ostensibly wondrous e¬ects of which often attracted charges of quackery. Many items of perfumery, especially the expanding and popular range of scented waters, could also be described as medicines. Under a 1785 Act of Parliament stamp duties had to be paid on licences to sell medicine and on many of the medicines themselves. A similar Act in 1786 extended stamp duties to ‘Sweet Scents, Odors, Perfumes, and Cosmetics’. However the blurred line between perfume and medicine encouraged dirty tricks by informers. In Cambridge in March 1788 one informer was busy buying small quantities of essence of lemon from apothecaries and then informing against them as perfumers without licenses. The enraged populace forced him to be escorted to the local tavern (ironically named The Rose), where he was held prisoner at the behest of the mob. Only after the Riot Act was read was the informer able to escape. The attempts of the state to tax perfumery showed just how blurred the line between luxury and medicine, pleasure and health, continued to be.
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