Book Review: The Domestic Revolution
Mar. 3rd, 2023 08:33 amRuth Goodman’s The Domestic Revolution: How the Introduction of Coal into Victorian Homes Changed Everything is saddled with one of those maddening subtitles that is directly contrary to the actual point of the book. Goodman’s whole point is that coal became the dominant fuel in London homes at the end of the Elizabethan Era, and this domestic coal usage spurred the use of coal for industrial purposes which, in turn, helped spark the Industrial Revolution, all of which occurred long before the Victorian era!
The subtitle issue is especially exasperating because it obscures the truly revolutionary nature of this book: in placing the home squarely at the center of the adoption of coal, it upends the traditional history of the industrial revolution.
Goodman’s day job is as a hardcore historical reenactor, using old advice books to recreate daily life in the past, so like all her books, this book is full of fascinating tidbits about daily life. Often Goodman discovers that advice that seems bizarre today makes good sense in context: one bit that sticks with me from a previous book is that brushing your hair one hundred strokes each night actually does keep your hair clean and shining if you do it with a natural bristle brush.
In The Domestic Revolution, Goodman answers a lot of questions that I had only vaguely formulated before. For instance:
Coal is responsible for the fact that British food is so different from food across Europe: coal fires are perfect for things like puddings that boil for hours and hours, while wood is better suited for things that need a long slow simmer, like stews. (This also explains why things like roly-poly pudding never caught on in America: American homes continued to be wood-based long after most of England had switched to coal, and it’s very hard to keep a wood fire at the pitch of heat necessary to boil a pudding for hours.)
The rise of coal-burning homes coincides with the fall of tapestries, because sticky coal smuts are almost impossible to clean off an expensive, difficult-to-launder tapestry. It’s much easier to wash them off a painted wall or that fashionable new wallpaper.
Wood-burning houses are generally easier to keep clean than coal-burning ones, and require very little soap, because wood ash is itself a natural cleaner. As you may recall, wood ash is one of the ingredients in soap: you pour water through ash to get lye. In a wood-burning house with plenty of ash, you can simply use that lye directly in the laundry, for instance. In a coal-burning house, however, only soap can clean away the oily coal smuts. In time, soap came to be seen as the only way to clean, a link that has only strengthened over time, so that when people today see ye olde cleaning advice that doesn’t feature soap, they assume it can’t possibly work and that people in the past and/or faraway places where this advice is still used must be filthy.
(Goodman notes that soap advertisements basically manufactured the “dirty native” trope: it became much more common after it was employed in massive ad campaigns that linked soap and civilization.)
Because of the sticky nature of coal smuts, it takes much longer to clean a coal-burning home than a wood-burning one. Thus, the adoption of coal forced women to spend much more time cleaning their homes (and concomitantly less time working in the garden, the dairy, the poultry yard…), and Goodman suggests that this contributed to the rise of separate spheres ideology that so powerfully identified women with the domestic sphere. Coal technology forced women to spend ever more time in the home, and people moralized from the accomplished fact, as people are wont to do. Whatever is, is not merely right, but the best of all possible worlds.
The subtitle issue is especially exasperating because it obscures the truly revolutionary nature of this book: in placing the home squarely at the center of the adoption of coal, it upends the traditional history of the industrial revolution.
Goodman’s day job is as a hardcore historical reenactor, using old advice books to recreate daily life in the past, so like all her books, this book is full of fascinating tidbits about daily life. Often Goodman discovers that advice that seems bizarre today makes good sense in context: one bit that sticks with me from a previous book is that brushing your hair one hundred strokes each night actually does keep your hair clean and shining if you do it with a natural bristle brush.
In The Domestic Revolution, Goodman answers a lot of questions that I had only vaguely formulated before. For instance:
Coal is responsible for the fact that British food is so different from food across Europe: coal fires are perfect for things like puddings that boil for hours and hours, while wood is better suited for things that need a long slow simmer, like stews. (This also explains why things like roly-poly pudding never caught on in America: American homes continued to be wood-based long after most of England had switched to coal, and it’s very hard to keep a wood fire at the pitch of heat necessary to boil a pudding for hours.)
The rise of coal-burning homes coincides with the fall of tapestries, because sticky coal smuts are almost impossible to clean off an expensive, difficult-to-launder tapestry. It’s much easier to wash them off a painted wall or that fashionable new wallpaper.
Wood-burning houses are generally easier to keep clean than coal-burning ones, and require very little soap, because wood ash is itself a natural cleaner. As you may recall, wood ash is one of the ingredients in soap: you pour water through ash to get lye. In a wood-burning house with plenty of ash, you can simply use that lye directly in the laundry, for instance. In a coal-burning house, however, only soap can clean away the oily coal smuts. In time, soap came to be seen as the only way to clean, a link that has only strengthened over time, so that when people today see ye olde cleaning advice that doesn’t feature soap, they assume it can’t possibly work and that people in the past and/or faraway places where this advice is still used must be filthy.
(Goodman notes that soap advertisements basically manufactured the “dirty native” trope: it became much more common after it was employed in massive ad campaigns that linked soap and civilization.)
Because of the sticky nature of coal smuts, it takes much longer to clean a coal-burning home than a wood-burning one. Thus, the adoption of coal forced women to spend much more time cleaning their homes (and concomitantly less time working in the garden, the dairy, the poultry yard…), and Goodman suggests that this contributed to the rise of separate spheres ideology that so powerfully identified women with the domestic sphere. Coal technology forced women to spend ever more time in the home, and people moralized from the accomplished fact, as people are wont to do. Whatever is, is not merely right, but the best of all possible worlds.